Enough
by A Girl With No Identity
Summary: Allysa is happy with her life. Working at the orphanage with her friends and boyfriend is great. But when tragedy strikes, suddenly Allysa is left with nothing. She enters the Selection to get her mind off of things. But is the Prince enough to make her forget about her tragic past?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, people! This is my first fanfic, so I hope it's good. I'll try to update it often, but I might be really busy this summer, so I can't promise anything. Hope you like it! Special thanks to TieDieTruth for letting me use some of her characters and for helping me get this started.**

I dunk yet another dirty plate into the soapy water. Washing dishes is SO not my first choice in chores at the orphanage. Okay, that makes it sound like Sarah and Daniel are horrible slave drivers of orphanage owners. They're not. Quite the opposite, in fact. They're some of the kindest people I know. Sarah is like the mother I never had. And Daniel is nothing like the father I did have.I'm actually a volunteer here. When I first got here, I was already too old to count as an orphan, but Sarah and Daniel were nice enough to let me stay and work for them in exchange for food, shelter, and a chance to be surrounded by the best people in the universe.

I'm interrupted from my mundane task by yells outside. I hear Ellie (one of the orphans) yell "Get away from me!"

"Oh, yeah?" I hear a guy say. "Make me!" I'm outside in about 2 seconds flat. A boy who's about 18 years old has Ellie pinned against a wall by her arms. He has a malicious sneer on his face. Ellie's face is streaked with tears. "Please leave me alone," she begs. The boy tightens his grip. That's when I step in. I run over, grab him by the arm, and spin him around, away from Ellie. Before he even gets a good look at me, I've shoved him onto the ground and pinned him down.

"She tells you to get away from her, you better get the hell away from her!" I hiss. "She's only 11 years old, you asshole!" He starts to say something, but I push him further into the dirt and continue my rant. "As if her life wasn't messed up enough already! No parents, a brother in jail, and an alcoholic aunt to live with? She doesn't need you to come and-"

I would say more, but Michael puts his hand on my shoulder and gently pulls me away a few feet. "Did you see what he-"

"Yes, I did, but you need to calm down before you permanently disable him," Michael says. I smile a little.

"I know, it's just-"

"Yeah, I get it, I care about Ellie, too. But that guy's life is probably just as screwed up as hers is," he reminds me.

"That doesn't mean he has an excuse to be a total jerk," I grumble.

"But you know that could've easily been any of us if we hadn't met Sarah and Daniel."

"Ugh, stop making me understand him," I whine. "Why can't there just be clear-cut bad guys and good guys? Life would be so much simpler that way."

"Maybe. But that's not how it works. Everyone has good parts and bad parts."

"I know. I think everyone's really 50/50 on the inside. It's just that different situations bring out different traits." And that's seriously what I believe. And I know Michael believes it, too. He tries harder than anyone to see the good in people. I try, too. But when someone does something like that, I don't want to think about their good parts or about what made them that way. I just want to punch their face in. I look back at the jerk who was bothering Ellie. He's standing up and starting to walk away. I try not to smile when I see that I've given him a bloody nose.

Don't be a sadist, Allysa, I think to myself. I walk back towards Ellie. "Are you okay?"

"He tried to . . . touch me . . ." she breaks into a sob. I pull her into a hug.

"It's going to be okay, I swear," I whisper. "You're going to be okay."

"Why?" Ellie asks me. "Why do these things happen to me? It's not fair!"

"Ellie, nothing is fair. Some people have lots of money and food and a big house; other people die of starvation. Some people have healthy, stable families . . ."

"And some people live with their perpetually drunk aunt because their brother murdered their parents?" she finishes for me.

"Exactly," I hug her again. "Let's go inside, 'kay?"

"Okay."

When we step inside, Ellie heads upstairs. It's only 7 PM, but she deserves the extra sleep after what happened tonight. I head back to the kitchen to finish the dishes, but I find Rachel finishing them for me. "Oh, thank you, Rachel, you're the best!"

"It's nothing," she insists, but I know it's not. Rachel hates doing dishes more than I do. I leave the kitchen and go to the gathering room. We do something here every Friday night. Sometimes it's a skit, sometimes a game show, sometimes a concert. Always done by Michael, Nick, Ethan, Melani, Rachel, me, and a few volunteers from the audience. I find Ethan, Michael, and Melani already there.

"Nick went to gather the kids," Melani lets me know. About 3 minute later, Rachel and Nick join us at the front of the room as the kids file in. When they're all seated, Ethan steps forward and pulls a fake microphone to his mouth. "Hello, folks! It's time for the most entertaining game show within a 10 foot radius! Yep, you guessed it . . . We're playing Trivial Triviaaa! Our contestants tonight will be Mark, Lily, Steven, Emily, and Hannah!"

Trivial Trivia is kind of dumb, but its lameness is what makes so great. Most of the questions are things like "What is Michael's favorite color?" or "How often does Rachel brush her teeth?" with a few questions about history thrown in for variety. (Blue and 3 times a day, in case you were wondering)

"So, Hannah, you're up first! Your question is: What is Allysa's favorite chore here at the orphanage?"

"Umm . . . working in the garden?" she guesses.

"That is correct!" Ethan exclaims. I grin. He's so hilariously over-the-top with theses things. I bet he'll actually host a game show someday. Or maybe he'll replace Millon Faydaye as . . . royal announcer person? Huh. I don't actually know Millon's official title.

"Alright, Steven, you're up! So tell me: How long ago did Sarah and Daniel found this lovely establishment?

"16 years ago,"Steven answers confidently, but, unfortunately, incorrectly.

"Oh, so close!" Ethan says. "Sorry, Steven, but the correct answer is 15 years. Better luck next time!"And it goes like that for another hour, until we finally call it a night and send the kids to bed. Ethan thanks all the participants for competing and hands a cheap plastic trophy to Mark, who beat Hannah by a single point.

"Uh, Ethan?" Mark says, "This is for girls' soccer."

"Look, it's the only trophy we had, okay?"

"Whatever," Mark laughs a little bit. "I always wanted to be a girls' soccer champion, anyway." He shrugs.

"Well, you haven't achieved that goal, yet, boo," Melani points out. "Because that trophy's just for participation."

"Oh, come on!" Mark pretends to be really upset and stomps upstairs. We all laugh. Normally, I'd stay downstairs and hang out with everyone, but I'm really tired, and I want to check on Ellie, so I say "Guys, I'm going to bed, now, okay?" I get a chorus of "goodnight"s and "sleep well"s and a hug from everyone. We're all really close, in case you hadn't guessed. When I get to Michael, I put my hands on his hips, lean up a little, and press my lips against his. He kisses me back, and it's pure and sweet and gentle and a thousand other words that mean wonderful. "Goodnight, Michael," I whisper in his ear. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he says. "More than you know." I kiss him one more time, on the cheek this time, and then head upstairs. Behind me I hear Nick say, "Dang, you've been dating for two years already; are you ever gonna stop doing that?"

"Never," Michael says.

"Never," I repeat to myself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, time for chapter two! Yay! Thanks to klairedelys, MastaGamerita and TieDieTruth for following my story.**

 **Thanks for reviewing, TieDieTruth! You don't need to be jealous of me; your writing is amazing. You guys should all read her story Red Mirror. I'm actually making the prince in my story be the child of her characters.**

 **Anyway, I feel like I kind of overdid the drama in this chapter. It's supposed to be emotional, but I might have gone overboard. I don't know, you should tell me in reviews. Speaking of which, more reviews would be great. Even if you hate my story or this chapter, you should still review so I can learn how to write better. :) Okay, we need to get into the actual story.**

Gunshots.

Screams.

The smell of smoke.

More screams.

What's happening? Is this a dream?

I snap into consciousness when someone slaps me across the face. I look up to see Rachel standing above me. "Sorry, Allysa, but you have to wake up!" I look around. There's still smoke, guns are still firing, people are still screaming. Shit. This isn't a dream.

Rachel slaps me again. "Snap out of it! We need to get out of here!"

"But what about the kids?"

"Most of them are out already," she tells me.

"Only most of them?"

"Well, not the ones who can't walk. That's why you need to get up NOW."

"How are we going to get them all out in time?"

"I don't know," she says, her voice shaking. "Just help as many as you can. And hurry!" I grab Elizabeth, a wailing 9 month old and rush toward the door. Rachel picks up another girl and runs after me. I'm about to go down the stairs when I hear voices coming from downstairs. "Sounds like there are more kids upstairs. Don't kill them all; just enough to leave a message."

I turn to Rachel. I'm sure that my face mirrors her expression of petrification and helplessness. "What do we do?" she whispers.

"I don't know." We can't hide and wait for them to leave, because a. They'd probably find us and b. Even if they didn't, the building is on fire so we'd probably burn to death before we could get out. We can't run out there and try to get past them or overpower them because we are 2 teenage girls carrying babies and they are at least 5 strong men with guns. Wait! Maybe . . . No, there's no way that would work. But we don't have any better options. "Rachel, turn around," I whisper. "We're going back to the girls' room."

"What?! Are you crazy? If we go back there, we'll be trapped when they get in!"

"Do you have a better idea?" I challenge her.

"We could . . . I mean . . . couldn't I . . . No." she trails off, having reached the same conclusion I did. "I guess you're right. There are no good options. Let's go." We run down the hallway as quickly as we can. When we get back to the room, Rachel barricades the door. "So what's your plan?" she glances over at me. "Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me."

"It always works in the movies . . ."

"Yeah, but this real life."

We hear a crash and more screaming from the boys' room. "Listen, Rachel, we need to get out of here, fast. I don't know how else to do this. I know this has a 75% chance of failing, but if we stay here, we have a 99% chance of ending up dead." Rachel still looks doubtful, but she come over to help me tie more sheets together. I grab a pillowcase and gently place Elizabeth inside. "Come help me tie this onto my back!" I call to Rachel.

"That doesn't seem very safe, Allysa," she says.

"Staying here isn't safe, either," I remind her. She ties the pillowcase on my back. I do the same to her and Gemma (the girl she's taking with her). We tie the end of our sheet rope to the foot of a bed and toss it out the window. "Who's going first?" I ask as I shove the window open. "You go," Rachel says. We hear a crash against the door. They're here. "Quickly," she adds. I swing my legs over the windowsill, and as soon as I have a firm grip on the rope I start rappelling down the wall.

Right as my feet hit the ground, I hear a huge crash and Rachel screaming. She pulls herself onto the windowsill, but a gunshot causes her to fall backwards. She screams, and Gemma wails louder than ever before.

They hit the ground with a sickening crunch, and both of them are silent. Then Rachel stands up and screams, her voice joining and blending with all the terror and horror and utter despair hanging in the air around us. I stand next to her, unsure of what to do. She is obviously distraught, but we can't stay here. I put a hand on her shoulder. "Rachel?" She keeps screaming. "Rachel, look at me." She is quiet for a minute. "Listen, we need to get out of here."

I look at her. She's facing me, but not hearing anything I'm saying. Her eyes are empty and glossed over with tears. I raise my hand and slap her across the face, like she did to wake me up no more than 10 minutes ago. I watch a little bit of life return to her eyes. Within seconds she's screaming again, actual words this time. "Did you see what just happened, Allysa? Look at this!" She's untied the pillowcase from her back and is shoving it into my hands. "Look at it!" I do. The pillowcase is soaked in blood. I can feel the sharp jabs of broken infant bones and the squish of . . . something. I don't think I want to know.

"I killed a baby, Allysa! How am I supposed to live with myself after that? How?!" she demands.

"Rachel, listen to me," I beg her. "You did not kill Gemma. Those guys"- I point inside-"did. And if we don't get somewhere safe, they'll came after us next."

"Then let them!" she yells. "I don't want to live! Let them take me. Please." She collapses on the ground and breaks into a sob. "Please." I see one of the men from earlier run out of the house and before I know what I'm doing I'm turning towards him and screaming at him. "How dare you do this to my best friend! Do you know what you did to her? Do you think she'll ever be okay again?! Do you think she can ever come near a child again without breaking down?!" Michael, who just ran out of the front door with a limp, puts his hand on my shoulder again, just like last night. "Allysa, get away from him; you're going to get hurt!"

"I'm already hurt!" I scream. "I'm hurt that there are orphans dead for no reason. I'm hurt that my best friend wants to kill herself because of him!" I point towards the man, who is now about 2 meters away from us. Michael tries to stop me again, but I ignore him and keep yelling. "I'm hurt that these people are going to get away and destroy more families, kill more innocent people just because they can!" I'm so wrapped up in my rant that I don't notice the man draw a pistol and aim it at me. But Michael notices. Of course he notices. He shoves me aside just as the man pulls the trigger. Michael tries to jump out of the way of the shot, but he's too late.

The bullet hits him in the forehead. "I love you, " he calls, and then he collapses to the ground. I scream and drop into a kneel beside him. My eyes are filled with tears before my knees even hit the ground. Blood is spattered across his beautiful, gentle angelic face. I scream one final thing at the evil, wicked, horrible monster of a man who did this. "I hate that you murdered the most perfect boy in the world!"

And I sob and scream and shout his name until everything finally goes black.


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, so the next few chapters are going to be really short. It's supposed to be for dramatic effect, so we'll see how that goes. I'm also going to be out of town this weekend, so it might be a few days until I update again. Sorry!**

 **Thanks to TieDieTruth and MastaGamerita for reviewing. To Masta: Yeah, that's what I was afraid of. It's supposed to be really emotional, but they are definitely not supposed to be drama queens. Also . . . You have a puppy? Lucky!**

 **To TieDie : I'm glad you don't think it was too much. I was worried about that chapter.**

 **Okay, I think my author's note was longer than the actual chapter.**

I come to on a bed in a small white room. I open my eyes to see a woman with long brown hair and a warm smile looking down at me. "Who are you?" I ask. "What happened? Where am I?"

"I'm Caraline. This is my house. You and a few of your friends will be staying here until you can find more permanent housing. You passed out from screaming," she explains. Screaming? Why was I-oh. It all comes back to me in a rush. The fire. The men with guns. Rachel's screams. Michael. Oh, Michael. I always knew he would sacrifice his life for me if he had to, I just never thought it would really happen.

Now I understand how Rachel felt. Michael, the kindest, sweetest, fairest, most wonderful person in the world, is dead because of me. Michael, the one person who threw off my 50-50 theory because he was just so good through and through. Michael is dead because of me. How am I supposed to live with myself after that?

How?


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm home! But my internet is down (again) so I'm typing this at the library. Sorry if there are spelling/grammar issues, I was trying to type really fast because there are time limits on the library computers. Thank you TieDieTruth for reviewing. Sorry it was so short. This one should be a little longer.  
**

I cry for days. And then . . . I don't. I just lie in Caraline's bed and feel nothing. Caraline brings me food every day. Some days I eat it; most of the time I ignore it. Nick, Ethan, and Melani come to talk to me (they're also staying in Caraline's house) but none of them know what to say. I don't know where Rachel is. I'm afraid to find out, so I don't ask. My days are dull, empty, meaningless.

Nights, though, are anything but empty. They are full of dreams of Michael. I dream of the day we met. I'd run away from home because I hated my father (still do) and he listened to my entire story. He's the one who told me about Sarah and Daniel.

I dream of the day he asked me out. We were 15; we'd known each other for two years. When he finally asked, I thought I was going to cry from happiness. He was so sweet, so vulnerable, so afraid that I'd say no.

I dream of the time we tried to have a romantic, candlelit dinner late at night, but there were no candles and we didn't have the stuff for a romantic meal, so we ate leftovers in the kitchen with the glaring florescent lights on until Sarah found us and told us to go back to bed.

I dream of our first kiss, awkward but sweet. He didn't know how to kiss, and neither did I. I told him so beforehand. Still, it was one of the best moments of my life.I dream of our last kiss, so full of passion yet still gentle and caring. I dream of our second kiss and our tenth kiss and our hundredth kiss and every other kiss in between.

But no matter what I dream about, it always ends the same way: with gunshots and fire and blood and Rachel's screams, echoing in my mind every morning when I wake up.

Rachel's voice is still in my head when I wake up, so I am surprised when it is Melani, not Rachel, standing over my bed. But I tell myself that's ridiculous. Why would Rachel be here?

"Allysa?" Melani begins tentatively. "Look, I know you're hurting. We all are. And honestly, I think you need some serious, professional help, but we don't really have any psychologists around here just lining up to help you." She takes a deep breath. "And I don't know what I'm supposed to say to make you feel better. I don't know if you even _want_ to feel better. But I do know that staying here for the rest of your life isn't going to help you. Maybe you care, maybe you don't, but trust me, other people do." Another deep breath. "Michael isn't - wasn't - he's not the only person who cares about you. Nick and Ethan and I are worried out of our minds about you. So are Caraline, Sarah, Daniel, and dozens of kids from the orphanage. So, on behalf of all of the people who have ever loved you, I hereby order you to get your butt out of bed and do something."

I can't help smiling. Melani talks a lot, but I know that this had to be rehearsed. And somehow, that makes it even more touching. So I let her pull me out of bed, proclaim that I stink "worse than a rotten onion that a goat pooped on", and shove me into the bathroom that's attached to the room. "Seriously, Allysa, have you even showered or changed clothes since we got here?"

"Umm . . . no, not really," I admit.

"Eww, gross!" She exclaims. "Take a _really_ long shower. And put these on when you get out." She shoves a pair of jeans and a soft gray shirt into my arms.

"Where did you-"

"I went shopping. We're about the same size; they should fit you." With that, she slams the door shut and leaves me standing , stunned, in the bathroom. It takes me a second to fully process all the things she just said. After I finally snap out of it, I take a shower that lasts at least 30 minutes. Afterword, Melani spends another half-hour pulling my waist-length, honey-colored hair into a beautiful web of braids. She makes a dozen tiny braids and then pulls them together with the rest of my hair into one long braid in the back. As she does, we talk. "How is your hair not a matted, tangled, disgusting mess?" she asks.

"I brush it every morning," I explain. "It helps me feel calm, like there's at least one part of my life I can control."

"Yeah, I totally get that, " she says. "I took up knitting to help me feel calmer."

"Huh," is all I say. I didn't know Melani knitted. So many things have happened in the past 42 days. (Yes, I've been keeping track.) "So, what else has happened since . . . you know . . ." We're both avoiding saying anything about the fire, Rachel, or Michael. Normally this would bother me, but I'm not really ready to talk about it yet.

"Well, I got a job," she says, ignoring the last part of my sentence. "I work as a saleslady at a clothes store." I smile, because that's the perfect job for her, but at the same time, I feel like crying, because her job (and my job, too) used to be taking care of the kids at the orphanage.

"Where are they now?" I ask, forgetting that she can't read my mind and doesn't know who I'm talking about.

"Who?" she asks, reminding me to clue her into my train of thought.

"The kids from the orphanage," I clarify.

"Oh," she says. "Different places, depending on the kids. Nick is renting an apartment a couple blocks away, so a few are with him. Lots of kids got put into foster homes. Some of them decided to fend for themselves, or live together in groups on the streets. A lot of the older ones are trying to find jobs." I frown. They shouldn't be living on the streets. I did it for a few months, when I was 13, before I met Michael and, through him, Sarah and Daniel. Meeting Michael was- _No,_ I remind myself. _Don't think about Michael right now. Think about the kids._ The kids who are only 12 years old and already trying to find jobs. The orphanage couldn't afford to take care of kids older than 13, so "the older kids" meant 7th graders. 7th graders should not have to look for jobs. Why is the world like this? Why does it put 10-year-olds on the street. Why does it give me an asshole for a father? Why does it kill the kindest boy in the world? Why does it drive teenage girls to insanity? Why?

"Allysa, are you listening to me?" Melani snaps my attention back to our conversation.

"Yeah, sorry," I say. We spend the rest of the day talking. We talk about nothing, really, nothing important. It feels good.


	5. Chapter 5

**Update: I changed Allysa's weight from the original, because I realized that i accidentally made her underwieght.**

 **Hey, people! My internet fixed! Yay! Hopefully I'll be able to update more often now.  
**

 **Thanks, TieDieTruth. I expect you to stick with this.**

 **Also, thank you Arianna W for following and reviewing. Reviews are awesome. High school is scary.**

I yawn and stretch my arms above my head, feeling refreshed for the first time in more than a month. I smile when I think of last night. We (Nick, Ethan, Melani, and I) went to the restaurant that Ethan works at. It was his day off, and we stayed there until closing time (midnight) eating and talking and laughing and catching up. It wasn't the same as it used to be, before the fire, when Michael and Rachel would have been there, but it was good.

I sit up and am about to get out of bed when Melani comes rushing in, yelling excitedly "Allysa, look at this!" I don't know what I expect to see, but the piece of paper she's waving in the air doesn't really seem worth the excitement.

"What do you want?" I ask, wondering what all the fuss is about.

"Look! Look at this!" she screams again. She shoves the piece of paper into my hand. The first thing I notice is how fancy it is. The paper is thick and textured, and it's not just white; it's more of a rich cream color. The second thin I notice is the Illea national emblem at the top of the page. Finally, I notice the actual content. A few words stand out. Namely, "Prince Foster" and "Selection". Wow.

Melani is still screaming in my ears. " _it'ssoexcitingisn'titgreatyouhavetoenterpleaseandIwilltooisn'tthissocoolhe'sreallycute!"_

"Whoa, Melani, calm down," I say. "I can't understand a word you're saying."

"There's going to be a Selection," she says.

"Right, okay." I decide not to tell her that I already knew that based on the paper she practically threw in my face.

"I'm going to enter."

"Doesn't surprise me." Melani is super outgoing. She'd love to surround herself with 34 other girls and a celebrity.

"And," she says, "I think you should, too."

That does surprise me. "Are you crazy? I've only just managed to get myself out of bed! I can't do that."

"Allsa, please," she begs me. "You need something to take your mind off Michael."

"No!" I yell loudly. "I don't want to get my mind off him. I can't let myself forget him."

"You won't, I promise," she tells me. "But don't you think Michael would want this?"

"You think he'd want me to date a stranger and forget him?"

"And he would want you to stay here, depressed about losing him, for the rest of your life?" she counters. I have to admit she has a point. "Please, Allysa," she says. It seems to be her catchphrase lately.

"But there's no way I could be a Princess."

"Are you joking?!" she exclaims."You'd be a great Princess! Allysa, you always try to see other peoples' perspectives. You understand people; you listen to them. Don't you think that's what this country needs?"

I blush at her compliment. "Okay, fine," I concede. "I'll enter. But I swear they'll kick me out as soon as I get in the doors. And that's if I even get picked out of thousands of other girls in our province."

Melani flings her arms around me. "Oh, thank you! I knew you'd do it!"

"But-"

"No buts! You're filling this form out right now!" She shoves another piece of paper into my hands. I smile and roll my eyes and start to fill out the form.

 **Name** : _Allysa Beth . . ._ I hesitate when I reach the last name. I don't know what my mother's last name is. Putting my father's last name would imply that I am his child. Maybe we are linked by genetics, but he is _not_ my dad. He did nothing for me. Sarah and Daniel, on the other hand, did everything for me. They saved me from the life I was headed for me. I consider them my parents, so I might as well take there last name. _. . . Workman._

 **Age:** _17_

 **Height** **:** _5' 7"_

 **Weight:** _164_

 **Hair color:** I wonder why they need this. Don't they also get a picture? Whatever. _Golden blonde._

 **Eye color:** _grey_

 **Languages** _: English, Spanish_

 **Special skills:** _guitar, listening (Melani's idea), kickboxing._

There. Done. Melanie and I walk to the Province Office together and chat a bit while waiting in line. She goes in first. She walks out 37 seconds later and stands by the door to wait for me. I sign my name to confirm that I didn't lie on my application (I wonder if putting Workman as my last name counts as lying). I give the best smile I can (I'm pretty sure I look ridiculous) and a lady snaps my picture. I step back outside and Melanie smiles at me. "That wasn't too bad, was it?" She says with the tone of a mother who knows she's right.

I grin. "No, it really wasn't," I agree.


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm really sorry this took a while and it's so short. I've just been really busy lately. I'll try to update again really soon.**

 **Thank you to TieDieTruth and Arianna W for reviewing. You guys are both fabulous. All of my readers/followers are fabulous.**

9 days and 10 hours later, Caraline, Sarah, Daniel, Nick, Ethan, Melani, and I are all sitting in front of Caraline's TV, waiting for the _Illea Capital Report_ to start. And at precisely 7:00 PM, it does. After the national anthem and some useless budget announcements, Millon Fadaye takes the stage. Or, set, I guess. I don't think there's an actual stage. Anyway, he walks across whatever it is he walks across and says, "And now, the moment you've all been waiting for . . . The ladies of the selection will now be revealed! But first, a few words from Queen Savannah."

Queen Savannah smiles at the camera. "Well, I just think that kindness is so important. Be kind to Foster, and especially be kind to your fellow Selected. It will take you far in life."

"Excellent advice, Your Highness," Millon says. "Princess Rin, would you like to say anything?"

"Okay, well, I say: please do not judge Foster based on what he looks like on TV. When I started my Selection, I honestly expected both Robin and Armin to be total snobs. But . . . they weren't. They were -are- amazing."

"Well said," Millon says. It might be my imagination, but I think I see Princess Rin roll her eyes. I like Princess Rin. Sarah says she really hasn't changed much by being a Princess. And I think that's a good thing.

The camera cuts away, revealing a table with 35 huge baskets overflowing with envelopes. Prince Foster stands on one side of the table, preparing to draw the envelopes. He looks confident, excited. Huh. I guess I expected him to be nervous. He clearly is not. Either that, or he's very good at masking his emotions. My immediate instinct is to compare him to Michael. They both have brown hair, but Foster's is lighter. Michael had brown eyes that I always felt like I could fall into. Remembering his eyes, I almost start crying again. I remind myself to focus on the Prince. Foster's eyes are blue. I guess he's cute, but he's not Michael. I'm not sure I can ever love anyone but Michael.

Foster calmly walks to the first basket, pulls out an envelope, and announces, "From Kent . . . Miss Zayley Gardener!" Zayley has bright eyes and a great smile, but the most noticeable thing about her is the pair of cat ears she wears on her head. I have to grin at that. "From Sota . . . Miss Isolde Chalet!" Isolde smiles flirtatiously. I immediately dislike her, then remind myself to give her a chance. "From Bankston . . . Miss Ava Kowalski!" Ava looks like she's so excited she might explode. "From Zuni . . . Miss Shilo Marks!" Shiloh looks at the camera from a kind of side angle. She isn't smiling, but she's not frowning either. She just looks . . . thoughtful. "From Waverly . . . Miss Ember Storme!" Ember stares straight at the camera and scowls. I wonder what she's angry about. I guess her names- both first and last- suit her well. "From Allens . . ." _please be Melani, please be Melani_ , I chant to myself. " . . . Miss Allysa Workman!"

Everyone around me is screaming, Melani is squeezing me so tight I can hardly breathe, and the phone is ringing off the hook. My only thought is: _Wow, I really do look_ _ridiculous in my picture._


	7. Chapter 7

**I have a question: do you guys prefer that I write longer chapters and update less often or short chapters and update more often?**

 **BTW, I have no idea what flowers go to each province. I just chose a flower I like.**

 **Thank you TieDieTruth for reviewing. I'm glad you like the chapter. :)**

Sunday night is when I discover I've been Selected.

Monday I spend trying to avoid the paparazzi and reporters.

On Tuesday, I pack. I don't really have much to bring, since all my clothes will be provided by the Palace. I decide to bring the jeans and shirt Melani got me, a notebook, and some colored pencils. I stick it all in the backpack I used through middle school. It's the same bag I packed my stuff into when I ran away from my old house.

On Wednesday, a man from the palace comes with tons of paperwork and nosy questions, along with vitamins and a check that I give to Daniel.

On Thursday, we decide to lock the doors and disconnect the phone so I can enjoy one last undisturbed day with my friends. There's a lot of laughing and crying and goodbyes.

On Friday, it's time for my send-off. I wear the black pants and white shirt that were provided, along with a forget-me-not (my province flower) in my hair. At 10:00, a woman knocks on the door. She introduces herself as Lisa and says she's my aide. She'll help me with my sendoff, and when I get sent home, she'll help me adjust back into my old life. Well, she said "if" I get sent home, but I know I won't last a week.

The town square is close enough to walk to, so we do. When we get there, Lisa shoves a microphone in my hands. "Do you want to say anything?"

I look at her. "Do I actually have a choice?"

"No, not really," she says as she pushes me onto a platform that's been set up in the middle of the square.

"Um, okay," I say. "Listen, there are lots of people here whom I've never met. And I want you to know who I am before I leave. Because for better or for worse, I _will_ be changed by this experience. So I want you to know who I am now. Right now, I'm not one of the Selected. I'm not 'that girl from the orphanage'. I'm Allysa. I love kids, I love blowing bubbles, and sometimes I have a temper, but when I calm down, I'm usually pretty understanding. I don't know who my mom is and I hate my dad, but I do have a family and I love them with all my heart." I stare straight at Sarah, Daniel, Melani, Nick, and Ethan, all standing together in a group. "I'll miss you guys." I will. I'll miss Sarah's fantastic hugs, Daniel's good advice, Ethan's incredible acting, Nick's sarcastic comebacks, Melani's enthusiasm. I'll miss Rachel and her stories. Rachel told great stories. I wonder where she is now.

And Michael. I'll miss Michael more than anyone. But I can't think about that, I remind myself, trying not to cry. I fail miserably. Before I'm even off the platform, tears are blurring my vision. I fall into Sarah's arms. "I'll miss you so much," I tell her. She just hugs me harder. When she releases me, I turn to Daniel.

"I love you, Allysa," he tells me. I cry harder and pull him towards me. My "real" father never said that to me unless he wanted something. "I know you'll do great." He pushes me towards Melani, who immediately throws her arms around me.

"I'm gonna miss you _so_ much!" she exclaims. "Tell the prince I said 'hi', okay?" I push out a laugh that turns into a sob halfway through.

"Oh, relax," Nick jokes. "It's not like you're never going to see us again."

"Oh, shut up!" I playfully punch him in the arm. Before he can retaliate, I pull him and Ethan into a weird sort of group hug. These two are like brothers to me. I know they'll support me no matter what. Melani and Daniel and Sarah will, too. They are my family. After about 5 million more hugs, I finally pull myself away from them. And I would step into the limo(yes, limo) right now, but I see Ellie standing at the edge of our little group. She looks like she wants to tell me goodbye but she doesn't want to interrupt. I meet her eyes and step towards her. "Hey," I say, "I'm going to miss you." She grins at me, tears glistening in her eyes.

"Yeah," she says. We hug, and she whispers in my ear, "Don't tell anyone, but you're my favorite. I mean, of the six- or four- I don't know- of you guys. You're a great listener. You're my role model."

"You know what? You're my role model, too." And it's true.

"I don't think you can have a role model who's younger than you."

"Are you kidding?" I exclaim."You've stayed strong AND kind even when life treated you like crap. You could have turned out to be a jerk, and I honestly wouldn't blame you after everything that happened to you. But you didn't. And I'm not sure I've ever told you how much I admire you for that. If that doesn't make you worth being my role model, what does?"With that, we hug again, and this time I do get into the limo.

Lisa explains that we'll meet 3 other girls at the airport. When we arrive in Angeles, there will be some time to meet some fans before heading to the Palace in _another_ limo. It only takes Lisa about 5 minutes to explain all of that. We still have another hour before we'll arrive at the airport. I pull my notebook and pencils from my bag and attempt to sketch the view out the window. There are so many people out there, holding sign and cheering names. Most of them are for me, but that's probably because we're still in Allens. These people must really care about this thing, to stand on the side of the road for hours just to hold up a sign I _might_ see.

Before I know it, we've arrived at the airport. Standing there already is Ember stormed, once again sporting her signature scowl. "Well, it took you long enough," she grumbles at me and another girl who just walked in.

"Sorry, I just needed to say bye to my family," I explain.

"I don't think it takes an hour to say a one-syllable word," she retorts. I'm about to say something else when another girl walks in. She has wavy blond hair with blue highlights that bring out her eyes. I wish I'd taken the time to learn everyone's names. I only know who the 5 girls who were announced before me are. The rest are mysteries.

"Hi." She extends her hand to me. "I'm Summer."

I take her hand and shake it. "I'm Allysa."

"Nice to meet you, Allysa," she says. I smile. Maybe this won't be a total disaster. Summer turns to the girl next to me, who introduces herself as November. summer tries to introduce herself to Ember, but Ember's glare scares her off. November and Summer launch into a conversation about their names and seasons and months. I chime in occasionally. After about 5 minutes, Ember says, "Are we going to leave or what?"

"You are, actually," Lisa answers. "Girls, it's time to board the plane."

On the plane, November pulls out a book, Ember stares moodily out the window, and Summer and I talk."I'm so excited," she tells me. "I don't want to get my hopes up, though. I mean, I have like a 3 percent chance of making it all the way to the end, right? But even if I get sent home tomorrow, at least I get a makeover and the night of my life, right?"

"Yeah," I say, slightly distracted. Summer seems nice and all, but she gets on my nerves a little bit. And we still have an 8 hour flight in front of us. Thankfully, Summer starts writing a letter to her family, and I turn to November. "What are you reading?"

"Little Women," she says.

"Okay, I know that's a classic and all, but I don't think I've ever read it," I tell her.

"Are you kidding? Never?"

"Nope."

"What about Pride and Prejudice?"

"No."

"Huckleberry Finn?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Secret Garden?"

"No."

"Oliver Twist?" she sounds a little desperate.

"Actually, I have read that one," I tell her. "But I didn't really like it."

"What?! Why?" This is clearly distressing to her.

"Because the portrayal of an orphanage is so wrong!" I exclaim.

"How do you know what an orphanage is like?" November asks.

"Um, because I work at one?" I say. "Or, I did."

"What happened?" She sounds concerned. I think I like this girl. She's nice.

"It burned down," I say. I look down. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Oh, okay," she says. There's a moment of awkward silence as she taps her fingers, not really knowing what to say. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah." I stare out the window and try to blink back tears. It was an awful night.

After a minute, November turns to me. "Do you want to read a book? I've got tons." She opens up a bag full of books, most of them classics.

"Yeah, thanks," I say. "That'd be nice."And I spend the rest of the ride reading _Secret Garden_.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you, people who reviewed!**

 **TieDieTruth: I like November, too. I actually tried to make her like me.**

 **smhuynh32103: Yeah, I'm pretty sure even Keira Cass didn't assign flowers to all of the provinces. Thanks for the feedback! I'm planning on making this a pretty long story. Thanks for favoriting and following, too!**

 **Yeah! Anyway, Chapter 8! Enjoy!**

When we arrive at the airport in Angeles, I try to give November her book back, but she tells me to keep it. I slip it into my backpack, which I slide onto my shoulders.

Ember steps off the plane first. She ignores the huge crowd of people and simply walks to the other end of the airport and stands by the doors, scowling. I'm not sure she has any other facial expressions. Summer steps off after her and starts talking to people and shaking hands. I decide to adopt her strategy rather than Ember's. I walk down the line (there's literally a red carpet laid out for us), smiling, waving, shaking hands, and occasionally striking up conversations. November follows behind me, doing the same thing. I spot a girl who looks about 15 years old holding up a sign with my name on it. "Why?" I ask her.

"Huh?"

"Why me?" I say. "Why do you think I should win?"

"Actually, it was my little sister's idea,'"she explains. "She saw your picture on TV and wouldn't stop talking about 'the girl with the funny smile.' So, I wanted to make her happy by holding up a sign for you. Mom won't let her come to the airport."

"Why not?"

"Why do you care?" she asks me. But she's not being rude; I think she really wants to know the answer.

"I don't know," I say. "I just care about people, I guess."

She smiles. "Well, Mom's terrified that she'll get kidnapped or something."

"But she's not worried about you?"

She shrugs. "I guess 14 years old is old enough to take care of yourself in an airport."

"Hmm," I say. "Well, I have to go now, but it was nice meeting you, uh . . ."

"Claire," she finishes.

"Bye, Claire," I say. "Tell your sister I said hi!" She grins and waves at me as I turn to the next person.

When we reach the end of the line, I'm glowing. I loved meeting so many people who support me. Well, I'm glowing until Ember opens her mouth. "You know they don't really care about who you are, right?"

"What?" I say.

"They don't care about your values or your thoughts or your beliefs or your family. They just saw a pretty face on TV and decided to pull for that one. Doesn't it bother you at all that they know nothing about you? It's all just so superficial. This whole thing is stupid, shallow, fake bullcrap!"

I would argue with her, but I actually think she's right. None of those people know who I am. All they know is what I look like.

I can't argue with her, but I feel the need to say something, so I blurt out, "Why are you even here?"

Ember glares at me. "I can be in the Selection if I want to be in the Selection!"

"But you don't," I point out. "So why?"

"Listen, I don't know what it's like wherever you're from, but where I come from, we don't put up with nosy questions," she growls at me. "It's none of your business why I'm here, anyway!"

November tries to defend me. "Hey, she was just trying to-"

"No one asked you, you little booknerd!"

Summer jumps in now. "Don't talk to her like that!"

"Yeah?" Ember challenges, "What'cha gonna do about it?"

That's all it takes for a full-blown fight to erupt. The only one actually throwing punches is Ember. The rest of us don't want to break the rules. Well, okay, I don't want to get _caught_ breaking the rules. I wouldn't mind punching Ember right now. But I don't. Instead, I focus on blocking her punches, because I'm pretty sure that doesn't count as "harming another Selected".

Fortunately, Ember doesn't really know how to punch properly. Unfortunately, November and Summer don't know how to block.

Ember directs most of her blows at me while Summer screams at her and November cowers at the edge of our group. The whole thing lasts approximately 23 seconds before a woman from the Palace comes over to break it up.

"Ladies!" she scolds. "What is going on here? You are supposed to be setting an example for the entire country!"

"But Ember was the one who-" Summer starts.

"I don't want to hear it," the lady says. "The Prince is the one who decides who stays and leaves. You can explain yourself to him when he finds out. Right now, you're going to get in the car. You don't want to be late for your makeovers."

Ember rolls her eyes but gets into the limo with the rest of us. We spend the whole ride in silence, all of us avoiding looking in each other's eyes. Ember sits with her arms crossed, a smug smirk on her face. I guess she does have more than one facial expression. Summer glares at her, and November looks terrified that Ember will explode on her at any second. Which actually has a decent chance of happening. I just stare out the window and try not to think.

When we arrive at the Palace, I don't get nearly enough time to admire its beauty before we're rushed in for our makeovers. Someone leads us to a room called the Woman's Room. Sounds like a fancy name for bathroom, but it's not. It's a huge room, currently filled with mirrors and stools and makeup artists scurrying around. A woman who introduces herself as Gina tells us that this is where we'll be spending most of our free time. "Now go get made over!" she says, pushing us inside.

The crazyness of it all overwhelms me. After I get a "before" picture done, someone leads me to a stool and mirror, I catch glimpses of conversations. I can hear maids yelling about dyes and makeup and water, Zayley Gardener insisting that her cat ears stay on, and Ember screaming, "I don't want a damn makeover!"

"Alright," the makeup artist in front of me says. "What kind of look are you going for?"

"Just . . . natural, I guess," I say. "Go light on the makeup, okay?"

First, some maids scrub every part of me. Then they rub lotions and oils all over me. After that, my nails are clipped, filed, buffed, and painted with a clear coat of polish. A woman does my hair. She asks if she can cut it, and I say no. I haven't cut it since the day Michael asked me out. I wanted something to mark the importance of the occasion. I'm not about to cut it now. I do let her trim it at the bottom to get rid of some split ends, but no more than an inch. She pulls it into a bun that manages to look elaborate and casual at the same time. It's beautiful, but I find myself missing the braids Melani did.

Finally, I end up back with the woman who first asked me what style I wanted. She puts makeup on me. I tell her to go light, and compared to the other girls, she did, but I still feel like I'm being smothered by layers of powder, cream, and perfume. When she finishes, she hands me a mirror. "Like it?' she asks. She tries to sound casual, but underneath it, there's an uncertainty, a fear I'll hate it.

"Wow," I say. "Yes, I like it." I do. I look beautiful, but still like me. "I like it a lot."

I am directed to a rack full of clothes and told to pick an outfit. To my surprise, there are pants and shirts there along with dresses. I guess I assumed there would only be dresses. I am pleasantly surprised. I pick a pair of silvery gray skinny jeans and a ruffled turquoise shirt.

A reporter comes up to me as soon as I am finally finished with my makeover. "Tell me, Lady Allysa, how are you feeling about your makeover?"

"I feel great," I say. "These people are talented; they're real artists."

"They really are, aren't they?" she agrees. "Now, what do you think of the other girls?"

"Well, I haven't met many of them yet," I remind her. "But the one thing I know about every single girl here is that she is unique. There are so many different personalities here, and I can't wait to get to know them."

"Excellent," she says. "That's all we need, thank you."

"Oh, okay," I say. I kind of expected the interview to be longer, but there are 35 girls here, so I guess it makes sense that it was so short.

I spend the next hour in the Woman's Room, watching the other girls get their makeovers finished and chatting with some of them. In those conversations, I learn that Zayley has been wearing the cat ears for 2 years and she only takes them off to sleep. I learn that Summer has a twin sister named Winter, and both of them used to get teased like crazy about it. I learn that Willow loves chocolate more than I thought was possible, Shiloh's little sister has depression, and Madison really likes Algebra. And I learn that trying to have a conversation with Ember is not really a good idea.

At 9 o' clock, Gina leads us all to our bedrooms. They're huge. Three maids introduce themselves to me. Kiana is tiny, with dark hair and eyes. Lily is pretty much the opposite; she's tall, blonde, and has blue eyes. Elaine has huge green eyes and red hair that's almost as long as mine. They all help me into bed, and they decide that Elaine will stay with me tonight. (We're all supposed to have a maid stay with us at night for safety.)

It takes me no longer than 2 minutes to drift off into a peaceful sleep. This has to have been the most interesting day of my life. Hopefully things won't be so crazy after today.


	9. Chapter 9

**I don't know why, but this chapter took me forever to write. Usually I write a chapter in two or three sittings, but this I wrote basically one paragraph at a time.**

 **Thank you Eikko for following.**

 **TieDieTruth: Thanks! Yeah, it is slightly repetitive. But I'm glad you like my story so much :)**

Elaine shakes me awake at 7:30 the next morning. I used to wake up at dawn at the orphanage, but I really don't want to get up right now. "Uhnghh!" I groan. "Do I have to get up?"

"Only if you want to eat breakfast," Lily jokes.

"Okay, okay, I'm up!" I exclaim. Lily looks at Elaine, like, _See_ , _I told you it would work._ Elaine rolls her eyes and pulls me out of bed. Today, I'm going to meet Prince Foster, so I have to look nice. No pants today. I have half a dozen dresses to choose from. I pick the simplest one I see. It's pale green with sleeves that go to my elbows and an empire waistline. Elaine helps me get it on, Kiana braids my hair, and then Lily does my makeup. I glance in the mirror. I look like I've stepped out of a fairytale. And I feel like it, too. "Thank you guys so much," I say to my maids.

As I step out my door, I see November walking down the hallway a few feet in front of me. "Hey, wait up, November," I call after her. She stops and waits for me to catch up with her.

"You look amazing," she tells me.

"I feel like Rapunzel," I reply.

"You feel like someone who spent their entire life in isolation, confused a Prince with a witch, and then fell in love with the first stranger you met?" She raises her eyebrows at."Oh, and in some versions you have magical healing tears and give birth to twins in a desert."

I laugh. "I was thinking more like I have gorgeous hair and an amazing voice."She rolls her eyes, and we walk to the Woman's Room together. At first I'm not sure we're in the right place because it looks so different from yesterday. All the mirrors, stools, and maids are gone. Well, there are a few maids, but not nearly as many as yesterday. A huge table made of dark wood is set up in the center of the room. "How the heck did they get that thing in here?" I whisper to November. She giggles, drawing Gina's attention away from her table-setting and towards us.

"Oh, you ladies are early," she says. I glance up at the clock. It's 8:00 now. We don't have to be here for another 15 minutes. "Would you mind helping me set the table?"

"Well . . ." November hesitates, not wanting to be rude.

"We don't know how," I finish.

"You don't know how to set a table?" She looks at us.

"Not with 5 forks," I say.

"Well, luckily for you," Gina says, "We're only using 4 forks."

It takes us 10 minutes to set the table. When the rest of the girls arrive, we are given a crash course in eating etiquette, using the table and dishes, along with some plastic food, for practice. I thought I knew all the basics : don't chew with your mouth open, napkin in your lap, don't slurp. But there's apparently a lot more than that. We learn which forks to use, how to position our utensils to communicate that we're finished, and that you always stand when a member of the royal family arrives. By the time we're finished, it's 9:00 and I am so hungry I think I might gnaw November's arm off. Luckily for her, we are dismissed to the Dining Room to put our newly acquired etiquette skills to practice.

In the Dining Room, there is a table a lot like the one that was in the Woman's Room, only this one has a tablecloth and place cards. I find mine in between Zayley and Ember and across from Shiloh. At least I have a vague idea of who all of them are. Hopefully I'll be able to keep Ember from killing me. I sit down for 4 seconds until the royal family walks in. Starlene, the daughter of Prince Robin and Princess Rin, walks in first. I don't know if she counts as a princess or not. I'll have to ask Gina. After her come her parents, then King Armin and Queen Savannah and finally Price Foster. I mean, I think he's a Prince. He's the heir to the throne, anyway. Ugh, why do royal families have to be so complicated?

I'm so caught up in my thoughts that I almost forget to stand. But just almost. I remember before I make I complete fool out of myself.

Ember doesn't seem too bothered about looking like a fool. She stays seated, the look on her face saying that she doesn't care at all about anything. But judging by what I know of her already, she cares a lot. She's sending a message, and she wants to be sure that everyone hears it loud and clear.

And they do. Reactions vary. Gina, of course, is furious. Starlene looks annoyed, but the rest of the royal family just look curious. Princess Rin tries to hide a half-smile. A couple girls try to get Ember to stand, but she shrugs them off.

"Thank you, ladies," King Armin says. "Please be seated." We sit, and breakfast begins. I think Sarah's a good cook, but she never made anything close to this. Even the simple things, like eggs and scones, taste like heaven. And I'm pretty sure these cherry tarts are the best things I've ever tasted. The cooks have even managed to make fresh fruit taste better than usual. I look up to see if the other girls love the food as much as I do. They do. Even Ember is enjoying it, even though she tries to hide it. I nudge her side.

"It's okay to like the food, you know," I tell her.

"Shut up," she mumbles, but her heart isn't really in it.

"Seriously," I say, pressing forward when I really should just leave her alone, "You obviously don't want to be here, so why not just enjoy the food until you leave?" She gives me a look I can't really read, but she seems to be more open about her feelings on the food after that. I figure I've bothered her enough and I probably shouldn't push it, so I turn to Zayley. "I like the ears," I say.

She smiles, her hand fluttering up to them. "Thanks. You wouldn't believe how many times the makeup people yesterday tried to convince me to take them off." She rolls her eyes. "And will people ever stop asking me why I wear them?"

"Well, why _do_ you wear them?" I ask her, not to be annoying, but because I really want to know.

"Ugh, not you, too!" She groans. "They just feel so . . . me. I'm a quirky person, they're a quirky accessory, why shouldn't I wear them?"

"That sounds like a very rehearsed answer," I say.

"Well, if you were asked the same question 50 times a day, wouldn't you have an answer prepared?" she challenges.

"Okay, fair enough," I shrug and decide to change the topic. "Isn't this food just amazing?"

"I know, right?" she says. "I mean, this stuff makes everything else I've ever eaten taste like dirt in comparison."

"Yeah, I'm not sure I'll be able to go back to normal-people food if I get sent home," I say.

Too soon, the meal is over, and Gina leads us back to the Woman's Room for (you guessed it) _more_ etiquette lessons. But we are interrupted after only a few minutes by Prince Foster. He knocks, and Queen Savannah gives him permission to enter. He stands there awkwardly for a minute, then Ember calls, "Yeah, what do you want?"

Prince Foster blushes and says, "Right. Ladies, I would like an opportunity to get to know each of you. Since you're already sitting in rows, perhaps we could start here," he points at the left front corner, at a girl whose name I don't know, "with Miss Emilie," Oh, okay. Her name is Emilie, "and move down the rows from there. Emilie, please join me . . ." he looks around, searching for a place for two people to sit, "on that couch over there." Emilie hops up, an excited smile on her face, and follows him across the room.

I'm pretty much right in the middle of all the girls, so I have a while to wait. Might as well use the time to get to know some other girls. I turn to the girl on my left. (Ember is on my right, and a conversation with her seems dangerous, so . . .) "I'm Allysa," I say, extending my hand.

"Sydney." She accepts my hand and shakes it. She looks across the room at the Prince. "Isn't he so cute?"

"Yeah," I say.

"Oh, come on!" she gives me a look. "His looks deserve more than just 'yeah'."

"Fine, how's this then: oh my gosh, he's like, so totally the hottest guy on earth, right?" I say with a fake giggle.

She laughs. "He is, though!"

"He looks good, yeah," I say. "But he's not really my type."

"Why are you here, then?" she challenges.

"Well, just because he's not my type physically, that doesn't mean he's not my type personality-wise. I don't really know much about him. Maybe I'll really like him once I get to know him." I shrug.

"I want to get to know him, too," Sydney says. "I'm just saying that it doesn't hurt that he's insanely attractive." I laugh and spend the next 30 minutes talking to the girls around me. I even manage to have a conversation with Ember that doesn't leave me with a black eye. Admittedly, the whole conversation was about the food and only about 15 words total, but I'm considering it a success.

Sydney pokes me in the side. "Your turn."

 **Prince Foster's POV:**

I sigh and try to hide a yawn as the next girl walks over. I thought this would be a fun opportunity to get to know each of the girls' unique personalities, but so far, Zayley has been the only interesting one. The rest might as well be clones. This girl (I think her name is Allysa) nearly falls over when she attempts a curtsy. "You know what?" she says. "Screw curtsies. Let's just shake hands." I give a small smile and accept her hand.

"You're Allysa, right?" I say.

"Did you memorize the names of all of the Selected, or did you read my nametag?" she asks.

"A little of both, I suppose," I say. "I tried to learn everyone's names, but the pins help."

"Tell me about yourself, Prince Foster," Allysa says, settling onto the couch next to me.

I'm surprised. "I thought I was supposed to ask the questions."

"You have 34 other girls right here to fall in love with," she points out. "I only have you. Shouldn't I know what I'm getting into?"

"Well, what would you like to know?" I ask. I have no clue where to start with this.

Her eyes light up. "Everything."

"I don't think we have quite enough time for everything," I say. "Do you have anything more specific?"

"Okay." She pauses to think. "What do you like to do for fun?"

"Fun," I repeat. "I wish I had more time for that."

There is a brief moment of silence before she presses, "Well, what about when you _do_ have time?"

"Don't laugh," I warn her. "I like . . . fixing things."

"Fixing things?"

"Cars, clothes, buildings, problems, et cetera," I explain.

She looks at me like I'm crazy. Dang it. I knew I shouldn't have said that. "Why would I laugh at that?"Oh. So that's what she thought was crazy. Thank goodness.

"I don't know. It's not really an ordinary hobby."

"I'm not really an ordinary person," she says. I smile.

"Well, it's been lovely meeting you," I tell her. "But I'm afraid I have to meet with the next lady now. Would you send her over, please?"

"Yeah, sure," she says. "Be careful, though," she warns.

"What? Why?" How dangerous can a teenage girl really be? Then I see that the next girl is Ember Storme. This could be interesting.

Allysa walks away, calling "Good luck!" over her shoulder. Ember walks towards me briskly, her mouth set in a firm line, eyebrows knit together. I have a feeling I'm going to need that luck.

 **Ember's POV:**

I sit down on the couch and cross my arms, not bothering with curtsies, handshakes, or words. What's the point? He doesn't want me, I don't want him, he's just going to send me home and marry November or some other perfect girl with a perfect life and a perfect family and they can start their own perfect family with their own perfect children who can have their own perfect lives. Did I mention that it's going to be perfect?

Anyway, I know he's sending me home, so what's the point? I don't want to be here. Sure, the food's good, and that Allysa girl is alright, but is there really anything else keeping me here?

But it's not like I want to be at home, either. This seems to be a lose-lose situation. Just like the rest of my life.

"Hello, Lady Ember," says the Prince, who looks like he's scared I'll bite his head off. I might.

"Hi," I say, trying to make it clear that I'm not going to give him much more than that.

"How are you today?" he asks. I guess I didn't make it clear enough.

"I think it's pretty obvious how I feel right now."

"Okay, let me try another question: why are you today?"

"Do you mean why do I exist?" I say. "Because I have no idea."

"No, I meant why are you angry," he says.

"Hmm, let me think," I say. "Maybe it's because my parents forced me to enter the most superficial contest in the world."

"Your family made you come here?" He looks concerned. Great. The last thing I need is sympathy from some pretty-boy who hasn't ever experienced even a second of the real world.

"I wouldn't necessarily call them my family," I say. "They just happen to be the people who gave birth to me. But yeah. They forced me to come here so they could get the money."

"That's . . . it's-" he struggles to come up with the right word. Look at that. I rendered the future leader of our entire country speechless just by telling him about my family.

"Yeah," I say.

"I could send you home, if you'd like," he offers.

"You think I want to go back there?"

"Well, I could stop the payments," he says, desperate to find a solution.

"Thanks," I say, "But my family problems run deep. It's going to take more than a canceled check to fix it." I stand up. This meeting is over. "Bye." I walk back across the room, leaving him confused and disappointed that he couldn't fix this, couldn't fix me. Nobody can fix me. I've been broken too many times. How many times can a heart be shattered before it's unfixable?


	10. Chapter 10

**It's my birthday, guys! Just kidding, I won't post this for another couple days, so it'll be irrelevant by then, but still. I'm really sorry this is short. I was really busy this week and I'm going to be out of town for another week starting tomorrow. This chapter is mostly dialogue. Most people either love that or hate it. Hopefully you love it. If not, you'll probably like the next chapter better. Okay, anyway . . .**

 **Thank you Happygreenbirdy for following and favoriting.**

 **TieDieTruth: Thank you! I'm glad you thought it was good. Ember's part was really fun for me to write.**

 **Anyone else want to review? Anybody? Nope? Okay, fine, be that way. Just kidding! I do like getting reviews, though.**

After all the girls meet Prince Foster, 6 are sent home. In the next week, he seems to be speed-dating everyone. Three more girls have been sent home so far, and now it's almost time for my date. Prince Foster invited me to talk. That's it. Just talk. Should be interesting.

I figure I could just wear the same dress I wore to dinner, but Elaine insists that I change. So, instead of the blue dress I wore to dinner, I wear a floor length halter dress in a dusty rose color. Normally, pink isn't really my color, but this particular shade is really beautiful.

At 7:15, there is a knock at the door. Kiana opens it, and there stands Prince Foster, right on time. "You look lovely, Lady Allysa," he says.

"Please, it's just Allysa," I say.

"Fine, then. You look lovely, Just Allysa."

I laugh and roll my eyes. "Seriously, though, I swear these three," I tilt my head towards my maids, "are fairies." Kiana blushes, Lily looks proud, and Elaine says, "Thank you, Miss!"I smile at them and walk out with Prince Foster. "Just talking, huh?" I say.

"I've been trying to choose activities that fit with each girl's personality," he explains. "I really enjoyed our conversation on Saturday, and I'd like to get to know you better. Besides, you seem to be very talented at talking and listening."

"Not more than any of the other girls," I insist.

"I spent more than an hour talking to all of them," he reminds me. "And I've seen you with the other girls. Trust me when I say you're one of the best conversationalists of the bunch."

"Well, you spend 4 years working at an orphanage, you get good at listening. That's just how it works," I say. He pulls open a door to a small room furnished with a couch that looks a lot like the one that was in the Woman's Room the day we first met.

"You worked at an orphanage?" He looks intrigued.

"Oh," I say, a little surprised. "Yes, I do. I guess I kind of assumed you knew that."

"How would I know?" he asks.

"I guess you wouldn't," I say. "I don't think I put it on my application or anything. I'm just so used to being surrounded by people who know that, I start assuming that other people will just . . . know."

"Well, I know now," he says. "Tell me about it."

"It's . . . amazing," I start. "Working there was the best experience of my life. It _was_ my life. The kids, they're all so strong. I know this one girl, she's eleven years old, and she pretty much had the worst family life imaginable. Her parents were abusive, so I guess one day her older brother decided he'd had enough. He got a gun, somehow, and shot them both. He did it right in front of her, too. I think he thought he was doing a good thing. He already had some mental health issues, so . . . Anyway, he was sent to jail, and Ellie was sent to live with her aunt. But the aunt, well, she wasn't much better than the parents. She was always drunk and didn't really pay attention to her niece. So, after a few months, Ellie ran away and came to the orphanage, where she's been ever since."

I look up to see that Prince Foster looks absolutely horrified. "Do they all have stories like that?"

"Lots of them do," I say. "Some of them were just left with us, some have parents who died. I- I'm sorry I upset you."

"You enjoyed hearing stories like that?"He looks even more horrified at that than the actual story I told.

"I enjoyed seeing kids trust me enough to tell me those stories. I enjoyed watching them learn to trust again, to love again. _That's_ what I loved."

He exhales, relieved that I'm not a total monster. "If you loved it so much, why didn't you stay? Why are you here?"

"I-I don't really want to talk about it," I say. The fire is too painful a memory to relive, and right now, I think if I tried to give the simple version ('there was a fire') I'd end up spilling the entire thing, and I can't handle that right now.

"Okay," he says. "What _do_ you want to talk about?" He obviously wants to know what happened, but he's willing to let it go for now.

"Hmm," I say. "How are you feeling about this whole Selection thing?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean there are 26 crazy teenage girls here, and you're expected to fall in love with one of us," I say. " _And_ the entire country is watching you."

"When you put it like that, it does sound terrifying," he admits. "But I've been enjoying getting to know all of the girls. I don't think falling in love will be the problem. I'm actually worried I'll fall for more than one of you."

"Yeah," I say. "That sounds even scarier, honestly. If you don't fall in love with anyone, then you don't have anything to lose, do you? But if you love more than one of us, then how can you make a decision without a piece of your heart breaking?"

He looks at me. "You're not exactly helping. But yes, that pretty much describes everything I'm feeling right now."

"I'm not going to tell you that it will all work out fine. Because it is a difficult and life changing decision. But look at your dad. Do you think he ever regrets choosing your mom?"

"No," he says. "I can't imagine him with anyone else, really."

"Exactly," I say. "And what about King Armin? Your aunt and uncle were made for each other. Everyone in the country can see it."

He looks at me, his eyes filling with hope. "Thank you, Allysa."

"What for?"

"For letting me think that this could all work out. For giving me hope that this might end up the fairy tale everyone says it will. Thank you."

I grin. "Anytime."

"I hope you mean that," he tells me.

"I do," I promise. There is a minute of silence that starts out sweet and meaningful but turns awkward halfway through. "Umm . . ."

"Yeah, so, uh," Prince Foster says.

"What's you favorite color?" I suddenly burst out.

"What?"

"Sorry, the awkwardness was killing me," I explain.

"Blue," he says.

"Why?"

He looks at me. "Do you ever stop with the questions?"

"Not really. Now are you going to answer or what?"

He laughs. "I don't actually know," he admits. "I guess it's just a calming color."

"Yeah, I like green for the same reason. And I can imagine a calming color would be nice with all the stress of running a country and all."

"True," he says. It's quiet again.

"Man, I really can't be all that good at conversations if everything I start keeps falling flat," I joke. He laughs. "Do you have a favorite food?" I try.

"I don't think it's possible to have a favorite with such talented chefs," he points out.

"I know, right?" I say. "It's only been two weeks and I already don't think I could ever go back to the stuff I've been eating before if I get sent home."

"It really is amazing, isn't it?" he says.

"I think it's the only thing all the Selected are all in agreement on. We have different opinions on fashion, politics, economics, you, each other, even history . . . but we are all united in our love for the food here. Even Ember can't deny that she loves it."

"She seems to be doing a fine job," he says.

"She tries," I say. "But I can tell."

"How?"

"You said it yourself," I point out. "I'm good with people. And she kind of reminds me of me when I was 13."

"Most people would be very offended at that," he observes.

"Well, okay, yeah, I was a witch when I was 13, but that's not what I meant. I meant that she's angry at the world, and I'm guessing at her family, too."

"What happened when you were 13?" he asks.

"It's . . . another thing I don't want to talk about," I say.

"So we're back to nothing to talk about?"

We sit in silence for a minute. "Do you have a favorite animal?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Oh my gosh, thank you everyone for all the reveiws! You guys have no idea how happy those made me. I don't think this is one of my best chapters. I like it, plot-wise, but I just don't feel like the writing was the best I've done. Anyway . . .**

 **TieDieTruth: Awesome! I've heard that blue and green are the top two most common favorite colors. Does that mean I'm average? Wait, no, I'm definitely not.**

 **Smhuynh32103: Thank you! Happy birthday to you too! (Whenever your birthday happens to be)**

 **Guest: Thank you!**

 **Arianna W: Wow! Thanks for all the reveiws! Have you read TieDieTruth's story Red Mirror? I figured that Rin (the main character) would totally make sure there were pants there. This chapter may change your opinion of her maids a little bit. And Ember is supposed to be mean, but she's definitely _not_ a Celeste. Also, I realized you reviewed chapter 6 and I didn't thank you in chapter 7, so I'll do that now: Thank you!**

When I return to my room later that night, Kiana is standing in front of the door. "Um, hi," I say, wondering why she's not inside the room or down in the servants' quarters. "You okay?" I reach for the doorknob.

"I'm fine," she assures me. "But I wouldn't go in there."

"What? Why not?" I immediately run over all of the terrible possibilities in my head. Bug infestation? Not likely to happen in the palace. Rebels? Why would they only be in my room? A dead body? Oh, God, I hope not.

Kiana notices the look on my face and assures me, "It's nothing terrible. Just Lily and Elaine fighting again."

"Really? They are? What about?"

She sighs. "Nothing. Everything. Do you remember their fight they had last week?"

I do. Thursday, I realized I hadn't done my 50 nightly sit-ups since the fire. I used to go months without missing a night. By then, it had been months since I'd last done them. So I started doing them again, and Elaine immediately protested that it wasn't proper, Lily said to let me be, and all hell broke loose. While they were arguing, I finished 25 and stopped there in a sort of compromise. "Yeah, I remember, but I thought it was just a silly spat."

"Yeah, well, they seem to have 'silly spats' all the time," Kiana says. "They've hated each other since they were little. No one knows exactly why, but the head maid was always careful not to place them on the same shift." She shrugs. "I guess with all the craziness of the Selection she forgot."

Things start to fall into place in my head now. The little looks they give each other. The way they always work on opposite sides of the room. The fight last Thursday and countless other little moments. "Why didn't I see this before?"

"Lily and Elaine have very different ideas about how to do it right, but they're both dedicated to their jobs. They think they'll be fired if you find out, so they try to hide it when you're around," Kiana explains. "But since you were gone on your date, they kind of let it all out. I don't even know what this one's about."

"Well, should I go in?"

She shakes her head. "I think they just need a little time to air out their differences. You want to walk around with me for a few minutes?"

"Sure, why not?" I say. "Where are we going?"

"Have you seen the gardens yet?" she asks.

"Not up close," I say.

"Let's go there," she suggests. "It's so beautiful."

"Aren't we not allowed outside after dark or something?" I ask.

"I know a couple of guards," she says. "Come this way." She leads me down a hallway, and then we turn down another hallway, and some stairs . . . and okay, fine, it takes me about 10 seconds to get lost. Fortunately, Kiana seems to know exactly where we are going. Finally, we reach a set of doors with two officers standing in front of us. Kiana turns to the one on the left. "Hey, Jeremy, we're going outside, okay?"

"Kiana, you know it's against the rules," he says, giving her a look.

"We'll be careful, I promise," she says. He gives her another look. "Oh, come on, Jeremy, please?"

He rolls his eyes and finally lets us pass. "Your brother?" I ask when we're out of earshot.

She looks at me. "How did you know?"

"I don't know, I guess I just pick up on that kind of thing," I say. "Though obviously my skills need work when it comes to Elaine and Lily."

"We came out here to get away from them, remember?" Kiana reminds me.

"Right," I say. "Looking at flowers and stuff. Zero drama allowed."

She smiles. "Yeah." We spend the next couple minutes looking at flowers and stuff, just as I predicted. We don't talk much, just look around at all the beauty that surrounds us. Eventually, we decide to head back inside, figuring whatever happened with Lily and Elaine has probably blown over.

But when we get back to the room, they're still fighting. Loudly. "Okay, you know what?" Kiana says, "Forget letting it air out. That's obviously not solving anything, and besides, you need your rest for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" I say, totally blanking.

"The _Report_?" she prompts.

"Oh, darn it, you're right," I say. Tomorrow is the first _Report_ officially centered around us, the ladies of the Selection. I mean, they showed clips of our makeovers and sendoffs, but this one's going to be huge. "I completely forgot."

"It's because you're sleep-deprived," she proclaims. With that, she flings the door to my room open. Elaine and Lily don't notice and keep yelling. Kiana rolls her eyes, and, wordlessly, we agree to stand by the doorway and see how long it takes them to notice. It takes Lily three minutes to notice us. When she does, she abruptly stops talking mid-sentence and elbows Elaine in the ribs. Elaine, thinking Lily was trying to hit her, raises her hand to strike back.

"Elaine!" I burst out. "Lily! What is going on?" I sound like a scolding mother. Not exactly the image of myself I want to give them, but it's working for now.

"Elaine said-"

"I was just-"

"No! Be quiet!" I say, sounding harsher than I mean to. "I'm sorry. I'm incredibly tired, I have a headache, and this is just too much for me right now. Lily, Elaine, get out. I don't care where you go. Take a walk, go to bed, whatever. And stay away from each other. Kiana, you're staying with me tonight. We'll talk in the morning."

All three girls look shocked. After a moment, Lily and Elaine glare at each other, but they don't say anything as they slip out of the room. Kiana helps me change into my night gown and get into bed. She settles onto the floor next to me. I lie awake for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling. "Kiana?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you sleep with me tonight?"

"I'm right here," she says.

"I mean in the bed," I clarify.

She's a little hesitant. "I don't think I'm really supposed to . . ."

"Please, Kiana?" I say. "I always slept in the same bed as my sister at home. I miss her." I do. I haven't seen Rachel in ages. I don't even know if she's still alive. We may not technically be related, biologically speaking, but she and Melani were family.

"Okay, fine," Kiana says, pulling herself onto the bed beside me.

"Thank you," I whisper.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

The next morning, Elaine and Lily aren't speaking to each other, but I manage to get dressed, made-up, and downstairs without a major fight breaking out. November and I walk together. It's become a routine with us.

After breakfast, we report to the Women's Room for lessons with Gina. "Silence, ladies!" she says. "Today we are learning about Official Royal Titles. We'll start with the easy ones. Who can tell me what titles are appropriate for Armin Schreave?"

Literally every girl raises her hand. Well, except Ember.

"Summer?"

"King," she says.

"Yes," Gina says. "What else is appropriate? Isolde?"

"Your Majesty."

"Correct. Who else can be addressed as 'Your Majesty'? Mariah?"

"Queen Savannah."

"Very good. Now, true or false: Starlene Schreave is a princess. Zayley?"

"True?" she guesses.

"Actually," Gina says, "she isn't technically a princess. However, most of the public views her as one, and in most situations, it would not be considered inappropriate to address her as 'Princess Starlene.'"

"Huh," I say quietly. Reactions to this little piece of information vary. Shiloh looks thoughtful, Ember rolls her eyes, and most of the rest of the girls don't seem to care. I think it's interesting. How long does it take for the public opinion to become the right answer?

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

"And we're on in 5, 4, 3, 2 . . ."

"Good evening, Illea!" Millon Faydaye exclaims. "It's time for the night you've all been waiting for . . . and entire hour dedicated to these lovely ladies!" Why is it that everything that happens on this show is something we've all been waiting for? Does anyone get tired of hearing that practically every night? "Let's start this right away. Miss Isolde, you're first!"

Isolde flashes the same flirtatious smile she wore in her application picture and says, "Thank you, Millon," with a sugary sweet tone. Yeah. She's not exactly my favorite person, but I'll still give her a chance. If she ever decides to grant me the honor of a conversation with her.

"Lady Isolde, have you been enjoying your stay at the palace?"

"Oh, it's been wonderful," she says. "But not as wonderful as Prince Foster is." To my left, I see Ember pretend to gag and I can't help smiling. The next twenty interviews go pretty much like that. Finally, Millon calls, "Lady Allysa!"

I smile step to the front.

"Lady Allysa, you were one of the ladies in the fight at the airport, were you not?" I'm a little surprised by the question. I was expecting something more along the lines of 'are you enjoying being part of the Selection?'

"I was," I say.

"So perhaps you have a bit of a temper?" Millon presses.

"Maybe sometimes," I say. "But that's not all of who I am."

"Really?" he says. "Tell us more about yourself."

I have no idea where to start, so I ask, "What do you want to know?"

"What did you and the Prince do on your date?" he asks. I thought we were talking about my personality, but I'm not about to complain about his question choice.

"We talked," I say.

"Just talked?" Millon looks intrigued.

"Yeah," I say. "We just talked. It was nice. Once we got past the awkwardness, it was really nice."

"That sounds lovely," Millon says. He's lying. He thinks it sounds boring. Whatever. "Lady Ember?" Oh. This should be interesting.

"Lady Ember, how has your stay at the palace been?"

She looks straight at him and says, "I hate this place. I don't want to be here and I think this whole competition is stupid. Does that cover everything?"

Millon looks, well, shocked. "And yet you're still here," he observes.

"Yeah, well, I don't want to be at my house either."

There is a moment of silence, and then Millon says, "Okay. Lady Zayley, it's your turn." But as it turns out, Zayley doesn't get a turn. Because at that moment, we hear the first of the screams.


	12. Chapter 12

**Ugh, school starts again soon, and I'm in a show of Grease and production week (AKA stress week) is coming soon, so I'll be updating a lot less often. :(**

 **On a happier note, thanks for the reviews, people!**

 **TieDieTruth: Thank you! I realized that nothing intense had happened in a couple chapters, so I thought I'd make it interesting.**

 **Happygreeenbirdy: I like your idea about the girls attacking Ember! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Arianna W: Yes, I am evil. Muahahah! Congratulations on creating the 25th review on Enough! Your prize is . . uh, chapter 12? (okay, fine, I don't have a prize)**

The scream comes from a maid, who points in horror as a man raises a gun to the temple of a guard and pulls the trigger. The guard crumples to the ground. The maid bursts into tears and runs towards him, but another guard stops her and points her toward a safe-room. I wonder who the guard was in relation to her. Brother? Friend? More than a friend?

No, now is not the time to think about that, I remind myself.

Within seconds, that single scream is joined by dozens of others. The screams mix with the sound of guns firing. The room slowly fills with smoke. I squeeze November's hand in an attempt to keep myself grounded in the present. It doesn't work. Memories of the night at the orphanage flood my mind. Soon, they become more than memories. The Palace disappears around me and is replaced with the orphanage. Somewhere in my mind I know that this is a memory, a hallucination, but I can't escape it. I don't see the set of the _Report_ or the ridiculously sparkly chandeliers; I don't hear the voices of Palace guards. The only thing I can see is the look on Michael's face the second before he pushes me aside; all I can hear is Rachel screaming.

A hand on my shoulder jolts me out of my trance. I look up, expecting to see November or another Selected girls. Instead, I see the face of Princess Rin. "You need to move." She looks me straight in the eyes. "Allysa, can you hear me?" I'm a little surprised that she knows my name, but now is not the time to think about that. I nod. "Good. Now move!" she shoves me in the direction that the rest of the group already went. I turn and run faster than I've ever run before, Princess Rin close on my heels.

We reach a doorway that I swear was not there earlier and almost trip down the stairs. Finally we reach the safe-room at the bottom of the stairs. 10 beds line one wall. On another wall, there are shelves of water and and non-perishable food. Guards patrol the room, reminding us to keep quiet. From the other side of the room, November spots me and comes running towards me. "I'm so glad you're okay!"She pulls me into a hug. "I tried to help you, but you weren't moving, and-" she breaks into a sob.

"It's okay, November," I tell her, but it isn't. These rebels are deadly, and if I keep freezing like that every time they attack, I'll be dead within a month. Still, November did nothing wrong, and I think that right now she just needs someone to tell her that everything is going to be fine.

I scan the room, counting in my head to make sure everyone's here. The other 25 girls are all here. Most of them are crying. Prince Foster, along with the rest of the royal family, stands by the door. Why would they stand there? If anyone gets through, they'd be the first ones to die. Aren't they supposed to be the most important people in all of Illea?

Suddenly exhausted, I sit down on the floor, pull my legs up to my chest, and rest my head on my knees. November sits down next to me. "You okay?"

"Not really," I say.

"Oh," she says. She sound like she wants to help but doesn't know what to say.

We sit quietly for a few minutes before I break the silence. "November?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember how I told you that the orphanage I worked at burned down?"

"Yeah."

"It wasn't just a fire," I say. "It was an attack."

"Oh."

"People died."

"Oh." She pulls me into another hug. My heart physically aches with the memories and I want to cry, but the tears refuse to come. I take a deep breath and pull her closer.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

I wake up on the floor of the safe-room, staring up at the ceiling. When did I fall asleep? A guard stands above me, a hand extended to help me up. "They're gone, Miss. Are you okay?"

"I will be," I tell him. "Are you?"

He looks a little surprised at the question. "Yes, I'm fine." He pulls me up and his tone turns businesslike again. "It's 8:30 AM now. Go to your room, clean up, do whatever. Breakfast will be served in one hour."

I'm shocked. "Are you just going to pretend like nothing happened? We could have died!"

"Yes," he says, "But if we let the attacks throw us, we're giving the rebels exactly what they want."

"How do _you_ know what they want?" I glare at him.

"Miss, we have very talented strategists. We're doing the best we can." I suddenly realize how tired he looks and feel like a jerk.

"I'm sorry," I say. He smiles, telling me without words that I'm forgiven. I grab his hand and he pulls me up. "Thank you."

"It's no problem, Miss," he says. "Have a nice day, Miss."

I grunt. "I'll try."

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

"Ladies, today we're going to learn about proper social etiquette," Gina says.

Ember stands up. "Are you freaking kidding me?"

"Miss Storme, please," Gina starts.

"No," I say. "She's right. We can't just sit here and pretend nothing happened."

"Seriously, we almost died," Zayley chimes in. "That's kind of hard to get over quickly." Other girls nod their agreement.

"But we're letting the rebels win if we stop everything because of their attacks," Isolde argues.

"Oh, don't tell me you actually believe that crap," Ember says.

"Ember!" Gina scolds.

I ignore Ember and Gina and turn to Isolde. "No, doing nothing to prevent them from attacking again is letting them win."

"Well, we all got out alive and safe, so I'd say we're doing a pretty good job," she shoots back.

"Maybe _you_ were safe," I counter, "but what about your maids? Gina, how many guards died in this attack?"

Gina glares at me. "That's classified information."

"Why?" I look around at all of the other girls. "One of us is going to help lead this country someday. Shouldn't we know what's happening?"

"She's right." I whirl around to see Princess Rin. I kind of forgot that she and Queen Savannah were in here. "Sixty-seven."

"What?"

"That's how many people died in this attack," she says. "Sixty-seven guards, maids, cooks, seamstresses . . ." I can feel an idea beginning to form in my mind.

"Princess Rin?"

"Yes?"

"Can I speak to your son please?"

Gina jumps in. "That's not prop-"

"No," Princess Rin interrupts. "I think this is going to be important."


	13. Chapter 13

**Wow, it's been a while since I've updated. I feel like after the long wait and the cliffhanger last chapter, this isn't as exciting as it should be. Oh, well. I'm sorry for the long wait, but this is probably going to be the new normal, since I'm going to be really busy with school and stuff.**

 **In other unrelated news, I'm a high schooler now! Wish me luck. In four days, I got lost thirteen times. Yikes.**

 **Thank you to everyone who reviewed!**

 **Arianna W: I'm glad you like it when Rin is in the story. I love writing those parts.**

 **Happygreenbirdy: Yeah, you're right, I really do need a catfight in here. I'll work on it.**

 **TieDieTruth: I'm so glad you think I got Rin's personality right. I really like Ember, too. I didn't really mean to make her likable, but, well, now I'm tempted to switch to writing the whole thing from her perspective. (Which I can do, if you guys want me to.)**

 **Booki: Glad you like it! Honestly, her biological family sucks, but pretty much everyone at the orphanage managed to fill that void for her.**

"Let me get this straight," Prince Foster says. "You want to teach _Ember_ how to throw a punch?"

"Not just Ember," I say. "And not just punches. I want to teach self-defense to all the Selected girls. And the maids, and cooks and all the Palace staff, too. They need know what to do in an attack if they can't get to a safe-room."

"And you know how to teach them that?" He looks doubtful.

"I do," I say. "And I think that there are some guards who would be willing to help."

"We have a lot of staff here," he points out. "You won't be able to teach all of them. What about just the Selected girls?"

"But everyone else here needs to know this just as much as we do!" I protest.

"Allysa, there's no way you can teach thousands of people all at once."

"Fine," I say. "What if I teach some guards and maids and then they teach everyone else?"

"But what about . . ." he trails off. "Actually, I don't have any other objections. It's a good idea."

"Then why did you spend 10 minutes arguing against it?"

He shrugs. "Occupational hazard. When do you want to start?"

"Hmm . . ." I say. "Well, I need punching bags, boxing gloves, guards willing to volunteer to help, and a place to do it. How long is it going to take to get all that?"

"A couple days, probably. Not more than a week. Is that okay?"

Without thinking, I throw my arms around him. "Thank you! This is going to be great! I really-" I suddenly realize I'm hugging the crown Prince of Illea. I blush and back away. "I- I'm sorry, Prince Foster, I was-"

"It's fine, Allysa," he assures me. "And . . ." he hesitates for a second, "just call me Foster."

"Thank you very much, Foster," I say, grinning at him as I walk out of the room.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

"First thing you need to know: fighting hurts. We're using gloves and bags here. Worst case scenario, you break a nail. But in a real fight, you can come away with serious injuries . . . bruises, scratches, broken bones. But I'd prefer that to dying. Any questions?"

"Do we have to do this?" Isolde asks. "We're training to become political leaders, not street fighters."

"Yeah, well, you're not going to become either of those things if you die the next time there's a rebel attack," I point out.

"Fine, whatever," Isolde rolls her eyes. "Can we just get this over with?"

I sigh. "Okay, everyone put on your gloves. Lesson number two: how to throw a punch. A fighter's stance looks like this:" I stand in front a punching bag, angled with my left foot forward, knees slightly bent. "A jab is a straight punch with the hand that's closer to the bag. Like this." I throw a quick jab at the bag and quickly bring my hand back up to guard my face. "A cross is the same thing, but with the other hand. It's going to have a little more power behind it." I demonstrate again. "Come on, try it. Go!"

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

An hour later, I stand exhausted in the now empty gym. I'd say it was pretty productive for a first lesson. The girls seemed to split into two groups: the girls who wanted to learn this stuff (including Ember, Zayley, November, and Shiloh), and the ones who didn't (including Isolde, Lily, and Ava). Despite her reluctance, Isolde certainly knows how to throw a wicked left hook.

I have an hour of free time and the gym all to myself. I make my way to one of the bags and fall into a fighter stance, bouncing lightly on the balls of my feet. I slowly start throwing punches, lightly at first, until I fall into a rhythm. Jab, cross, hook, hook. Jab, cross, hook, hook. I gradually pick up the pace, feeling every other thought fall away. Somewhere in my mind, I know that I'll have to come back into reality eventually, but for now, there is nothing but sweat and my heart beating fast and the steady rhythm of gloves hitting the bag.

And then it is ruined. A cough from the doorway drags me back to the present. I whirl around and glare at the person who interrupted me. "Oh," I say. "Pri- I mean Foster- I didn't see you. How long have you been there?"

He shrugs. "A couple minutes. How long have _you_ been here?"

"I honestly have no idea," I admit. "Do I need to be somewhere right now? Do you?"

"No, we both have some free time right now. I can leave you alone now, if you want," he offers.

"If you're not doing anything else, I'd like it if you stayed," I say. "Hey, do you want me to teach you?"

"Teach me what?"

"How to box," I say matter-of-factly. He gives me a doubtful look. "Oh, come on, Foster. You're the only heir to the throne. You need to know this."

"Fine," he says. "I'll try not to make a total fool of myself." I smile. It's hard to imagine him throwing punches _without_ looking ridiculous.

"Come here." I slip my gloves off my hands. "Make a fist." He does. I examine it. "Not bad, but you need to make sure it's clenched really tightly. There shouldn't be any air in your fist. Good. Now punch me."

"Excuse me?" he says.

"Throw your fist at my stomach," I say.

"No. No way."

"I'll be fine. Come on," I urge him.

"No," he says again.

"Fine, whatever," I say. "We'll just use the bags."

I spend the next thirty minutes teaching Foster everything I taught the Selected girls. At the end, we're both sweaty and panting and we probably smell really bad, but we're both smiling.

"Woah," Foster says, still panting. "You do this voluntarily?"

I grin. "All the time."

He looks at me. "I'm hungry. What about you?"

"Starving," I admit. "How long is it until dinner?"

"It's going to be a couple hours. Do want to go to the kitchens and get some food?"

"Isn't that against the rules?" I ask.

"Probably," he says. "But starving a member of the Selection is, too. Let's go." He leads me out of the gym. After turning left about fifty thousand times, we arrive at the kitchen. The aroma is the first thing I notice. I smell onions, peppers, chicken, sesame oil, and some kind of herb. Rosemary, maybe?

A girl who can't be older than twelve sees us standing in the doorway. She makes her way over to us. "Your Highness," she says, dipping into a curtsy. "Lady Allysa. May I help you?"

"What's your name?" I ask her.

"I'm Emmaline," she says. "Do you need something?"

"We need food," I tell her.

She laughs. "Cold food or hot food?"

"Cold." Emmaline opens up one of he many refrigerators, pulling out a loaf of bread, some cheese, and two pomegranates and hands it all to me. She leads us to a corner in the back of the kitchen that's fairly quiet.

"There's knives and a cutting board right there," she points to the counter. "Have fun!" she winks at us and disappears back into the chaotic work area. I grab a knife and cut one of the pomegranates and start pulling the seeds out. Foster slices the cheese and bread and hands me a peice of each. I drop a handful of pomegranate seeds into his hand. We eat in silence for a few minutes. Licking pomegranate juice off his fingers, Foster turns to me. "My mom says that she and my uncle had a food fight on the first night she was here," he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I laugh. "Since when are you so reckless and spontaneous, Foster?"

He shrugs. "I guess since 35 girls came to my house to compete for my hand in marriage." With that, he throws his remaining pomegranate seeds at me. I retaliate by taking a hunk of cheese and smushing it into his face. That's all it takes for a full-blown war to break out. A crowd of cooks gathers around, watching and cheering us on. One of them hands Foster a bag of flour, the contents of which he dumps all over me. "Hey!" I yell. After five more minutes of throwing food and screaming and laughing, Emmaline hands me a bucket of water. I pour it all over Foster. "I win!" I declare.

He smiles and rolls his eyes. "Whatever."

"What, you can't admit that you lost?" I tease him.

"You're the one covered in flour," he points out.

"You're the one who's soaking wet," I shoot back.

"Touche."

 **So, what did you think? And are you in favor of having more of the story be from Ember's POV?**

 **Just so you know, I do know how to box/punch. I'm just not very good at explaining it in writing. Also, for anyone that didn't know, the seeds are the part of a pomegranate that you eat.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Three day weekends are great, aren't they? And I don't have too much homework, making it even better.**

 **So, I have lots of things to say in this authors' note. Feel free to skip it and just read the chapter, if you want. First thing: I'm planning on updating every other weekend, so check for new chapters on Saturdays and Sundays. Secondly, I have decide to take the suggestion of a lovely person called TieDieTruth (hi!) and make approximately one-third of the chapters from Ember's POV.**

 **Third, I decided I want to do a thing in every author's note telling you guys about a story on this site or FictionPress that I really like. I would make this one about TieDieTruth's Red Mirror, but I already mentioned that in like, five other chapters, so this chapter's featured story is Abizeau's story Looks don't say it all. It's fairly short and really sweet. I recommend reading it all in one sitting while snuggling with a kitten. If you have a kitten. If not, a teddy bear and/or little sister works well, too.**

 **Fourth (and I swear this is the last thing besides reviews), I don't think I really like the summary as it is. If you guys have any better summaries of Enough, please put that in a review or PM me.**

 **TieDieTruth: I'm glad you liked the chapter. I was trying not to copy you, but I really wanted a foodfight, so . . . yeah. 7 years of Tae Kwon Do? Wow. Remind me not to get into a fight with you.**

 **SorryI'mReading: Thanks for your review(s)! I am going to be writing some from Ember's POV, but not the whole thing, don't worry. I love the username, by the way.**

 **stanford18: I don't know why, but I didn't see your reviews before. I rely mostly on email notifications to tell me about reviews, and for some reason I didn't get an email about yours. Anyway, thank you so much for your kind reviews!**

 **Guest: Okay, okay, I'm writing more, lol. Thank you!**

 **other Guest: Thank you! I'm really glad you liked the chapter. It was fun to write.**

 **If you read all that, I am very impressed. Now, (finally), Enough chapter 14!**

* * *

 **Ember's Point of View**

I flop down on my too soft, too fancy bed, exhausted. Allysa's idea to teach self defense was a good one, but I suspect that tomorrow will be filled with complaints of sore arms and shoulders. Not that I care. In my opinion, if a girl can't deal with a little pain, she has no business ruling a country full of people who are hurting. Ignoring the dull pain in my biceps, I pull my dress over my head and toss it on the floor, knowing that Anna will probably pick it up later tonight. I wish she wouldn't. I survived more than sixteen years (I'm pretty sure my parents cleaned up for me when I was two) of picking up my own stuff, but now (gasp!) I could be a _Princess_ , so I no longer need to have any personable responsibility.

Right on cue, Anna, Leslie, and Seraphina walk in. I ignore them all and continue undressing. Leslie blushes and stammers, "Oh, I'm sorry, Miss, we didn't-"

"I'm fine," I cut her off. "And no, I don't need help taking my clothes off, or drawing a bath, or getting into bed, or whatever else it is you were going to offer."

"Miss, are you-" Seraphina starts.

"Yes, I'm sure, I'm fine, and no, nothing happened. I just want to be alone." They exchange looks but say nothing. Leslie and Seraphina walk out. Anna hesitates at the doorway for a second, looking like she wants to say something, but she stays silent and follows after the other two, softly clicking the door shut behind her.

Finally alone, I finish changing into my nightgown, splash some water on my face, and crawl into bed.

After tossing and turning and rearranging pillows for several minutes, I finally give up and pull the blanket and a pillow with me onto the floor. I fall asleep there, on a plush rug that probably costs more than my entire house.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

The next couple days all run together in my mind. They are full of boring lectures from Gina, the other girls bragging about their dates with Prince Foster, and many hours spent doing absolutely nothing in the Women's Room. The only highlights are Allysa's boxing lessons and the meals.

Then, one hot, muggy, boring Tuesday, while we are all sitting in the women's Room, we hear Isolde scream. November drops her book and rushes over to see what happened. "Are you okay?"

"Look at this!" Isolde yells, pointing to a huge pimple on her chin. "Look at it!"

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," I say.

"What?" Isolde glares at me.

"That's all it takes to get you to scream?" I say, disgusted. "You nearly gave November a heart attack thinking something was wrong. All over a zit. Seriously, grow up."

"Well, excuse me for caring about how I look," Isolde says snottily.

"Yeah," I say. "Well, while you're over here having a breakdown over a pimple, some people have _real_ problems."

"Like what?" she challenges.

"Um, like dying? The Palace isn't the only place that gets attacked by the rebels, you know. You want to scream about something? Scream about the little girls being killed right this second."

"You bitch!" she screams.

"Me?" I laugh. It's hilarious, honestly. She knows I'm right, so she goes for empty insults. "I'm a bitch for caring about things that actually matter?"

"You- I - Aughh!" With that, she lunges at me, knocking me to the ground. She pauses for a second, clearly surprised that she actually managed to knock me over. I take that moment of hesitation as an opportunity to get the upper hand. I grab her arm and use my leg for leverage, flipping us over so that I'm now on top. She screams for the third time. "You know, Isolde," I hiss, "it's kind of sad that you have to resort to physical violence when you know I'm right."

She gasps indignantly and slaps me across the face. I punch her in the jaw. She cries out in pain and brings her hand up to scratch my face, dragging her insanely sharp fingernails down my cheek, leaving marks and even drawing a little blood. I raise my fist to hit her again, but someone catches my wrist. I look up and see Allysa. I grunt and try to pull my hand away, but she has a very tight grip. Isolde brings her knee up to my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I stand up, still trying to shake Allysa's grip on my hand, and kick Isolde in the side. She jumps up and tries to punch me, but Zayley holds her back.

Isolde struggles against Zayley, stomping on her toes several times, but Zayley refuses to let go. Allysa twists my arm around and pins it behind my back, effectively restraining me from doing much else. I squirm against her freakishly strong grip, and I'm about to break free when Prince Robin storms into the room, a very nervous-looking November by his side. I don't normally pay attention to Gina, but I'm pretty sure she told us that no men are allowed in here without the Queen's permission. I guess this is a special occasion then. Yay.

"What's going on here?" Prince Robin demands. "Ember, Isolde, go to the infirmary. Allysa, Zayley, you too."

"But I'm not hurt," Allysa insists.

"I don't care," he says. "Go. Lady November, go with them and make sure they don't tear each other apart on the way over. The rest of you, go back to your rooms. You'll all take dinner in your rooms tonight."

We make our way out of the room and to the infirmary, Ember and I shooting death glares at each other, November and Allysa looking nervous that we might start going at it again. I doubt it. Isolde cares too much about this stupid little contest to start another fight.

We arrive at the infirmary. A nurse immediately sits me down on a cot and starts cleaning the scratches Isolde left on my face. "What happened?" she asks.

Isolde gives her an innocent look and I swear her eyes start to water. "I was just talking to Ember, and she-she attacked me!" A single tear rolls down her cheek. Allysa rolls her eyes.

"I have literally twenty witnesses to tell you that's not true," I say to the nurse.

Isolde glares at me. The nurse glances between us. "You know what, hon?" she says to Isolde. "I think it might be better if you come with me to the other end of the hospital." The two of them walk away together, leaving me alone with November and Allysa.

Allysa sits down next to me. "You want to talk about it?"

I give her a look. "No."

"I think it would help if you-"

"I said no, okay?" I snap. "I don't need your sympathy, or your judgement, or . . ."

"My friendship?" she offers.

"I don't need that, either," I say.

"Fine," she says. "But if you ever need to talk-"

"No is a one-syllable word," I say. "what part of it don't you understand?"

She sighs and walks out of the hospital wing, stopping to talk to a nurse on the way. November and Zayley follow her. The nurse comes back, puts some salve on the scratches, and tells me that I'll be sleeping here tonight, "just in case."

I try to sleep on the cot, but I can't. So for the second time in the last 48 hours, I sleep on the floor. I guess I just don't like soft things.

 **So, the first chapter written entirely through ember's perspective? What do you think? Was the fight scene done well? Should I stop putting notes at the end of chapters? ;)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Warning: Ember says the f-word in this chapter. I'm really sorry to anyone who is sensitive to things like that, it just seemed very in-character for her.**

 **So, I'm guessing no one read my last note, lol. I'm sorry this chapter is a little short.**

 **I had an idea for another story, so I'll be trying to write that and Enough at the same time. Who knows if it'll work, but . . . I don't know, I really wanted to write this other story. The story will be called The Words, about a girl who can't read who enters the Selection.**

 **Also, it turns out there are a lot of people who followed/favorited that I didn't notice.**

 **So, the people who followed are:** **AriannaR,** **CallMeMichy,** **Eikko,** **MastaGamerita,** **SorryI'mReading,** **Thethirdme112358,** **TieDieTruth,** **imaddictedtoshipping,** **klairedelys ,** **lwinti,** **smhuynh32103,** **stanford18. I'm not sure I got all of them in previous notes. Thank you for following!**

 **People who favorited: Arianna R, happygreenbirdy, Samantha E. Morgan, SorryI'mReading, Thethirdme112358, TieDieTruth, imaddictedtoshipping, smhuynh32103, and standford18. Thank you so much!**

 **Reviews:**

 **TieDieTruth: Aw, thank you!**

 **happygreenbirdy: Okay, thanks.**

 **SorryI'mReading: Sorry, I couldn't completely understand what you were trying to say. The chapters from Ember's POV are meant to help you identify with her more. The Words will probably have lots of fluff, so you might like it.**

 **Arianna W: Thank you! I'm glad you like Ember's POV because it's really fun to write.**

 **Allysa's POV**

Ember, Isolde, November, Zayley, and I all sit on a couch, facing the royal family. No one says anything. Isolde sits up straight with a serious expression on her face, no doubt trying to impress the King and Queen. Zayley stares out the window, looking like her mind is in another place. November stares at the floor, her hands shaking slightly as she fidgets with her bracelet. Ember alternates between glaring at Isolde and glaring at the royal family. I look at everyone's' faces, trying to gauge their expressions.

Prince Robin is the first to speak. He clears his throat before saying, "If I am understanding this correctly, Lady Ember and Lady Isolde were engaged in a highly physical fight in the women's Room, and you three," he looks at me, Zayley, and November, "attempted to intervene? Is that correct?"

"Well, yes, but Ember was the one who began this whole ordeal by deliberately attacking me emotionally!" Isolde says. I am reminded of a five-year-old pointing an accusing finger and yelling "she started it!"

Ember rolls her eyes. "Isolde's the one who was screaming over a zit," she points out. "And she literally jumped on me, too."

"But that was only because-"

"Because I was right?" Ember challenges. "Because you knew the only way you could win was to attack me physically? And you can't even win that, either!"

"Lady Ember, please," Princess Starlene tries to say.

"Oh, you can just stay out of it, little Miss Perfect! It's none of your business, anyway!" Ember explodes.

Starlene gasps. "How dare you address me that way! I am a-"

"Yeah, yeah, we get it," Ember says. "You're a member of the royal family, and therefore _so_ much more important than the rest of us. You want to know something, Starlene? I don't fucking care!"

Starlene gasps again, stunned into silence. Prince Foster jumps up. "Hey!" he says, his voice sounding sharper than I've ever heard him. "Don't talk to my little sister that way!"

"Your little sister needs to grow up sometime!" Ember retorts. "Half of her country doesn't even like her!" I see tears spark in Starlene's eyes at Ember's words. "M _om?"_ she mouths to Princess Rin, asking with her eyes whether the accusation is true. Princess Rin looks down, giving away the truth without saying anything. Starlene begins to cry, the anger and hurt mixing together on her face. All around, everybody is yelling. Finally, I can't take it anymore. "Quiet!" I scream. "Can everyone please shut up for just one second?" I turn to Ember. "Are you not able to have a single conversation with anybody without tearing them apart?" I regret the words as soon as I've spoken, but there's no way to take them back.

"I-" Ember starts, but she says nothing more.

"Just go away, all of you!" Starlene yells. We look to King Armin, whose hand rests on the shouler of his sobbing niece. He nods, confirming her order. We silently shuffle out. Isolde, Zayley, and I leave first. Ember flips everyone off. November lingers, throwing Starlene a sympathetic look. Starlene doesn't notice, or if she does, she pretends not to.

 **Rin's POV**

I pull my crying daughter into an embrace, holding her head against my chest, and ponder what just happened. Ember made my fifteen-year-old daughter cry, so naturally, I want to bust her nose, but at the same time, I admire her honesty. She's up-front about her thoughts and feeling, a trait that seems to be lacking in many Selected girls. Ember reminds me a little of myself, I think, although she's a lot more volatile than I was.

I pull my thoughts away from the Selection and turn to Starlene. "Are you going to be okay?"

She ignores my question and asks a question of her own. "Is it true?"

I sigh. I can't hurt my daughter. But I can't lie to her, either. "Not everyone in the public likes you. But you're still-"

"Yeah, I know," she grumbles. "I'm still a wonderful and special young girl. You have to say that. You're my mom."

"I'm also a Princess," I point out. "That counts for something, right?"

She laughs. "Yeah, I guess." She pauses for a moment before asking, "Mom, why don't they like me?"

"I-, well-" once again, I want to be honest without hurting her. She's a fifteen-year-old girl, she'll enough self-esteem esteem issues without adding this to it.

"Just answer the question, Mom," Starlene says.

"Well, some people think you're too . . . harsh, I guess? They think you think too highly of yourself, I think."

"Huh," she says, thinking about what I said.

"But, you know what?"

"What?"

"Lots of people didn't like Grandma, either, but she turned out to be one of the best leaders this country's ever had."

Starlene smiles and hugs me again. "Thanks, Mom."

"Anytime."

 **Okay, I really didn't mean to write another fight in this chapter, it just kind of happened. I'm hoping I didn't fail miserably at writing from Rin's POV. Please check out The Words (once I post it) and I'll see you all next time!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Oh my gosh, guys. I was re-reading Happily Ever After, and I almost started crying in English class. My emotions can't handle this.**

 **So many reviews! Thanks so much!**

 **TieDieTruth: I'm really glad you think I did a good job with Rin's part. It's hard to write from the perspective of characters I didn't create, and with Rin there's the extra challenge of her being, like, 30 years older than me.**

 **SorryI'mReading: Okay, thanks for the explanation. I think that in general, most of my writing has more empathetic characters like Allysa, but writing for characters like Ember is also a ton of fun.**

 **Arianna W(or R) : Thanks for the review! I'm glad you liked it. And thanks for the username explanation. I have two last names, too, so, yeah. Cool!**

 **Booki: Wow, thanks so much! You totally understand what I'm trying to do with these characters, which is awesome.**

 **Guest: Aw, thanks! I'm updating a lot less than I used to, but I'm still working on this story, I swear.**

* * *

 _ **Starlene's POV (this should be interesting . . .)**_

It's all over the tabloids. It's next to impossible to find a magazine that doesn't mention the fights of the week. One article in particular catches my eye."'Little Miss Perfect': Could There Be Truth Behind Miss Storme's Accusation?"

" _In the past week, there have been not one but two fights in the Royal Palace. The cause behind the first fight was likely a simple airing out of differences after a particularly slow and uneventful week. What really caught the public's attention was the second one, in which Lady Ember Storme allegedly brought the nation's distaste for Starlene Schreave to attention. According to a source (who wishes to remain anonymous), Lady Storme called Starlene 'Little Miss Perfect' and told her that 'half of your country doesn't even like you.'_

 _Though her words were harsh, one has to wonder . . . is there something more than a short temper and a stressful week that caused Lady Storme to lash out? Perhaps Miss Storme did not put it very eloquently, but it cannot be strongly argued that she was incorrect in her accusation. A recent poll shows that more than 50% of the public considers Starlene Schreave overly self-centered. A recent campaign has been made to remove the title of Princess when speaking of Miss Schreave. Though she never truly held the title in the first place, many would use it when referring to her. Lately, the consensus seems to be that she is unworthy of the title and that it is to be avoided when referencing her."_

I blink back tears. Of course I know that the title was never really mine in the first place, but I've always felt like a princess, and it hurts that people want to take that away from me.

"Don't read them," someone says.

I turn to see one of the Selected. I'm not sure what her name is, but I know she was in the sitting room yesterday when Ember yelled at me. "What?"

"The tabloids," she clarifies. "It doesn't help anything. Besides," she says, plucking the magazine out of my hands, "this isn't even written well."

She's probably right about the tabloids, but who does she think she is to tell me what to do? "Was it you?" I suddenly say, glaring at her suspiciously.

"What?" she says. She looks like she genuinely has no idea what I'm talking about, but for all I know, she could just be an excellent actor.

"Someone told them," I say. "Someone told a reporter what Ember said about me, and everyone is agreeing with her! Was it you!?"

"No," she says simply. "It wasn't me." She looks sincere, and I feel silly for accusing her so fast.

"I'm sorry," I say. "Can- can you please go away?"

"Do you want to talk?" she asks me, and with that question, I suddenly remember her name. She's Allysa, the one Foster went on a date with that was literally just talking. I thought it was a lame date idea, but apparently it went well.

"No," I say. "I'd rather just be alone right now." It's not entirely true: I do want to talk. But I barely know this girl, and even though she seemed sincere when she told me she didn't tell anyone about what Ember said, I can't risk more negative media attention. I close my eyes and count to ten, and when I open them, Allysa is gone.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

 **Allysa's POV**

In the days following the fights, things are quiet. I find myself spending a lot of time in my room to avoid Isolde and Ember. The problem is, I still haven't escaped the fighting. Elaine and Lily don't talk to each other much, but the tension is thick enough to drown things are too tense in both the Women's Room and my own room, I escape to the library and gardens. I spend a lot of time alone, which I'm not used to. Since I was thirteen, I've been around people all the time. Being by myself feels unnatural.

I turn a corner as I'm wandering the hallways aimlessly, and suddenly I'm not alone anymore. "Foster!" I say, startled.

"Just Allysa," he returns the greeting with a smile. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not an expert in etiquette," I tease, "but I believe the proper greeting is _how_ are you doing."

He gives me a look, the kind of look that's supposed to be sort of stern and dubious, but it mostly just looks ridiculous.

I laugh. "I'm not really doing anything," I admit. "Just walking around."

"Why?"

"Too much drama everywhere," I shrug. "What about you?"

"Are you asking me _what_ I'm doing or _how_ I'm doing?" he asks.

"Both, I guess."

"I'm just walking around, like you," he says. "And for pretty much the same reason, I suppose: too much drama."

"What about how you're doing?" I press.

"I'm doing okay, I think," he sighs. "Starlene . . . she's a little less okay."

"Is she going to be alright?" I ask, concerned.

"I think so," Foster says. "Well . . . listen, she's fifteen, right? You know what fifteen year old girls are like, right? It's like what people think of her is the most important thing in the world. And I get it, I do, reputation is important, especially for a family like us. But . . . can she really not think about anything else? I mean, I love her, and I hate what Ember said to her, but she honestly drives me crazy sometimes." He finishes in a big rush, and then lets out a huge breath. "Sorry. Am I a horrible person?"

"No, I get it," I tell him. "Little siblings are inherently annoying. And you want her to be a little less . . . superficial, I guess. I understand, I promise."

"Do you have younger siblings, too?" he asks.

"Not biologically," I answer, and leave it at that.

"Yeah, " he says. "Hey, listen, do you want to go somewhere a little more private?" I suddenly realize that we're still standing in a very exposed hallway.

"That would be nice," I say. "But is there any, I don't know, prince stuff you need to do? I don't want to interrupt your work or something."

"Actually, I could really use an interruption right now," he smiles. "Come on, I want to show you a really cool place."

We turn down an endless number of hallways and open a door that opens to a small staircase. "Ladies first," Foster gestures for me to go ahead.

"You're the royalty here," I point out. "You go first."

"As you wish," he raises his eyebrows at me.

" _Princess Bride_?" I ask.

He smiles. "Yeah. Starlene and I watched it all the time when we were little. We still do sometimes. We tried to recite the whole thing once. I'm pretty sure we didn't get past the first scene without arguing about the words." He laughs and shrugs. "That's just how we are sometimes. And I was right, by the way."

"Sure you were," I tease.

We step up the stairs into open air. I laugh. "Are we on the roof?"

"We are," he grins at me. "What do you think?"

"I . . . it's beautiful," I say. There's an amazing view of the gardens, of . . . everything.

"I come up here when I need to think. It's quiet. And it's beautiful, like you said."

I'm incredibly touched that he brought me here. It's his special place and he shared it with me.

I say the only thing I can. "Thank you."


End file.
